My soul is weary of my life.
On the causes of men’s being weary of life
A sentiment which surely, if any situation can justify it, was allowable in the case of Job. Let us examine in what circumstances this feeling may be deemed excusable; in what it is to be held sinful; and under what restrictions we may, on any occasion, be permitted to say, “My soul is weary of my life.”
I. As the sentiment of a discontented man. With whom it is the effusion of spleen, vexation, and dissatisfaction with life, arising from causes neither laudable nor justifiable.
1. This weariness of life is often found among the idle. They have so many vacant hours, and are so much at a loss how to fill up their time, that their spirits utterly sink. The idle are doomed to suffer the natural punishment of their inactivity and folly.
2. Among the luxurious and dissipated, such complaints are still more frequent. They have run the whole race of pleasure, but they have run it with such inconsiderate speed that it terminates in weariness and vexation of spirit. Satiated, weary of themselves, the complaint bursts forth of odious life and a miserable world. Their weariness is no other than the judgment of God overtaking them for their vices and follies. Their complaints of misery are entitled to no compassion. They are the authors of their own misery.
3. Then there are those who have embittered life to themselves by the consciousness of criminal deeds. There is no wonder that such persons should lose their relish for life. To the complaints of such persons no remedy can be furnished, except what arises from the bitterness of sincere and deep repentance.
II. As the sentiment of those in situations of distress. These are so variously multiplied in the world, and are often so oppressive, that assuredly it is not uncommon to hear the afflicted complain that they are weary of life. Their complaints, if not always allowable, yet certainly are more excusable than those which flow from the sources of dissatisfaction already mentioned. They are sufferers, not so much through their own misconduct, as through the appointment of Providence; and therefore to persons in this situation it may seem more needful to offer consolation than to give admonition. However, as the evils which produce this impatience of life are of different sorts, a distinction must be made as to the situations which can most excuse it.
1. The exclamation may be occasioned by deep and overwhelming grief. As of bereavement.
2. Or by great reverses of worldly fortune. To persons under such calamities, sympathy is due.
3. Continuance of long and severe disease. In this case Job’s complaint may assuredly be forgiven more than in any other.
III. As the sentiment of those who are tired of the vanity of the world. Tired of its insipid enjoyments, and its perpetually revolving circle of trifles and follies. They feel themselves made for something greater and nobler. In this view the sentiment of the text may sometimes be that of a devout man. But, however sincere, their devotion is not altogether of a rational and chastened kind. Let us beware of all such imaginary refinements as produce a total disrelish of our present condition. They are for the most part grafted on disappointed pursuits, or on a melancholy and splenetic turn of mind. This life may not compare with the life to come, but such as it is, it is the gift of God. One great cause of men’s becoming weary of life is grounded on the mistaken views of it which they have formed, and the false hopes which they have entertained from it. They have expected a scene of enjoyment, and when they meet with disappointments and distresses, they complain of life as if it had cheated and betrayed them. God ordained no such possession for man on earth as continued pleasure. For the wisest purposes He designed our state to be chequered with pleasure and pain. As such let us receive it, and make the best of what is doomed to be our lot. (Hugh Blair, D. D.)
Weariness of life and its remedies
There is a love of life which depends not upon ourselves at all, and which we cannot help feeling at all times. It is the pure instinct of our mortal nature. And life is well worthy of our estimation and care. And yet there is such a thing as weariness of life. Men may be ready to say, “My soul is weary of my life.”
I. From their own sinful abuse of life and its blessings. Mankind usually expect too much from the present life. Some try to find this unwarranted enjoyment in earthly things, by carrying every gratification to excess, by giving themselves wholly to the love of present pleasures. They of course experience disappointment in this vain and sinful pursuit, as God intended they should do. They become weary of themselves and weary of life; and all this purely owing to their own folly in perverting their way, and abusing the good gifts of God. Others desire only lawful gratifications, and seek them in an orderly manner. They propose even to themselves to be useful in life. They plan very wisely, and proceed very commendably in all respects but one, and that one is, that they are merely looking to the creature, and leaving God, in great measure, out of view. They seek their happiness more in the enjoyment of His gifts, than in making it their aim to please the gracious Bestower of them all. These also are disappointed. Their schemes misgive; or, if they succeed, they themselves do not find in them anything like satisfaction to their immortal nature. They begin to blame this world, to blame their fellow creatures, and to become weary even of life. So did Solomon, Ahab, and Haman. This weariness of life would not be blamable if it was seen to have the good effect of checking men’s immoderate expectations from present enjoyments. But it does not usually serve such salutary purposes. This weariness is one of man’s own creating. Men try to make the animal part of their nature supply the wants also of their spiritual part.
II. From their sorrows in life and from their loss or want of its blessings. When the objects of our care and affection are suffering distress, or are taken away from us, we must sorrow severely, and we are not forbidden to do so. But we are cautioned against being “overcome of much sorrow,” and there is danger of indulging even excusable griefs, till we become ready to say, “My soul is weary of my life.” Then “we” show that we are forgetting the use of these afflictions and sorrows, and we defeat the very end of these sorrows. The furnace of affliction is the refining of our souls.
III. From their inability to enjoy the blessings of life. Bodily pains, diseased and decaying health, not only cause distress to our natural feelings, they also disable us from discharging those duties in which we might find relief from many griefs and troubles of mind. In extreme agonies of pain, life cannot be felt as anything else than a burden. Many, though free from excessive bodily tortures, are nevertheless made to possess “months of vanity,” and have “wearisome nights.” To bear such trials without being weary of life is no easy duty. But it never can become anyone to express weariness of that life which God, in His wisdom, sees meet to prolong. The continued sufferer may have much to do, and much to learn. Be not weary of life while you are in the way of acquiring greater meetness for heaven.
IV. From spiritual desires of a better life and its better blessings. There is a weariness of life that flows from a powerful feeling of religion itself, which we are too much inclined to excuse, or even desirous to indulge. It is found in emotional young persons under first serious impressions; and in those who are occasionally visited with high satisfactions of a spiritual nature; and in those oppressed with the power of an evil nature, and witnessing much of the wickedness of the world. They are defeated in the good which they wished to accomplish, and they are distressed by the prevalence in their own hearts of the evil which they wished to overcome. They are ready to say with the Psalmist, “Oh that I had wings like a dove! then would I flee away, and be at rest.” But it is unwarrantable to prefer heaven to earth, merely for the sake of your own ease and gratification. To do so is more a token of selfishness than sanctification of spirit. (J. Brewster.)
Great music uncomplaining
In a charming essay on music, a recent writer has gathered up a great deal in one telling sentence. He speaks of the various moods of the world’s masterpieces of music--the romance, the sorrow, the aspiration, the joy, the sublimity expressed in them, and he adds that there is only one mood forever unrepresented, for, “Great music never complains.” At first, this seems too sweeping. We remember so many minor keys, so many tragic chords, in the best music. But, as we think over it longer, it becomes truer and truer. Great music has its minor keys, its pathetic passages, its longing, yearning notes; but they always lead on to aspiration, to hope, or to resignation and peace. Mere complaint is not in them. The reason, after all, is simple. Complaint is selfish, and high music, like any other great art, forgets self in larger things. The complaining note has no possible place in noble harmonies, even though they be sad. So, if we want to make music out of our lives, we must learn to omit complaint. Some young people think it rather fine and noble to be discontented, to complain of narrow surroundings, to dwell on the minor notes. But it is well to remember that the one thing to avoid in singing is a whine in the voice; and whining is perilously close to any form of pathos. “Great music never complains.” That is a good motto to hang up on the wall of one’s mind, over our keyboard of feeling, so to speak. The harmonies of our lives will be braver and sweeter the more we follow this thought. Without it, fret and discord will come, and mar the music that might be, and that is meant to be. (Christian Age.)