I Know That My Redeemer Liveth

I Know That My Redeemer Liveth
A Sermon
(No. 504)
Delivered on Sunday Morning, April 12th, 1863, by the
Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,
At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington
"For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the
latter day upon the earth: and though after my skin worms destroy this
body, yet in my flesh shall I see God; whom I shall see for myself, and
mine eyes shall behold, and not another; though my reins be consumed
within me."–Job 19:25-27.
THE HAND OF GOD has been upon us heavily this week. An aged deacon, who
has been for more than fifty years a member of this Church, has been
removed from our midst; and a sister, the beloved wife of another of
our Church-officers, a member for nearly the same term of years, has
fallen asleep. It is not often that a Church is called to sorrow over
the departure of two such venerable members–let not our ears be deaf
to such a double admonition to prepare to meet our God. That they were
preserved so long, and upheld so mercifully for so many years, was not
only a reason for gratitude to them, but to us also. I am, however, so
averse to the preaching of what are called funeral sermons, that I
forbear, lest I appear to eulogize the creature, when my only aim
should be to magnify the grace of God.
Our text deserves our profound attention; its preface would hardly have
been written had not the matter been of the utmost importance in the
judgment of the patriarch who uttered it. Listen to Job's remarkable
desire: "Oh that my words were now written! oh that they were printed
in a book! That they were graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock
for ever!" Perhaps, hardly aware of the full meaning of the words he
was uttering, yet his holy soul was impressed with a sense of some
weighty revelation concealed within his words; he therefore desired
that it might be recorded in a book; he has had his desire: the Book of
books embalms the words of Job. He wished to have them graven on a
rock; cut deep into it with an iron pen, and then the lines inlaid with
lead; or he would have them engraven, according to the custom of the
ancients, upon a sheet of metal, so that time might not be able to eat
out the inscription. He has not had his desire in that respect, save
only that upon many and many a sepulchre those words of Job stand
recorded, "I know that my redeemer liveth." It is the opinion of some
commentators that Job, in speaking of the rock here, intended his own
rock-hewn sepulchre, and desired that this might be his epitaph; that
it might be cut deep, so that ages should not wear it out; that when
any asked, "Where does Job sleep?" as soon as they saw the sepulchre of
the patriarch of Uz, they might learn that he died in hope of
resurrection, resting upon a living Redeemer. Whether such a sentence
adorned the portals of Job's last sleeping-place we know not; but
certainly no words could have been more fitly chosen. Should not the
man of patience, the mirror of endurance, the pattern of trust, bear as
his memorial this golden line, which is as full of all the patience of
hope, and hope of patience, as mortal language can be? Who among us
could select a more glorious motto for his last escutcheon? I am sorry
to say that a few of those who have written upon this passage cannot
see Christ or the resurrection in it at all. Albert Barnes, among the
rest, expresses his intense sorrow that he cannot find the resurrection
here, and for my part I am sorry for him. If it had been Job's desire
to foretell the advent of Christ and his own sure resurrection, I
cannot see what better words he could have used; and if those truths
are not here taught, then language must have lost its original object,
and must have been employed to mystify and not to explain; to conceal
and not to reveal. What I ask, does the patriarch mean, if not that he
shall rise again when the Redeemer stands upon the earth? Brethren, no
unsophisticated mind can fail to find here what almost all believers
have here discovered. I feel safe in keeping to the old sense, and we
shall this morning seek no new interpretation, but adhere to the common
one, with or without the consent of our critics.
In discoursing upon them I shall speak upon three things. First, let
us, with the patriarch, descend into the grave and behold the ravages
of death. Then, with him, let us look up on high for present
consolation. And, still in his admirable company, let us, in the third
place, anticipate future delights.
I. First of all then, with the patriarch of Uz, LET US DESCEND INTO THE
SEPULCHRE.
The body has just been divorced from the soul. Friends who loved most
tenderly have said–"Bury my dead out of my sight." The body is borne
upon the bier and consigned to the silent earth; it is surrounded by
the earthworks of death. Death has a host of troops. If the locusts and
the caterpillars be God's army, the worms are the army of death. These
hungry warriors begin to attack the city of man. They commence with the
outworks; they storm the munition, and overturn the walls. The skin,
the city wall of manhood, is utterly broken down, and the towers of its
glory covered with confusion. How speedily the cruel invaders deface
all beauty. The face gathers blackness; the countenance is defiled with
corruption. Those cheeks once fair with youth, and ruddy with health,
have fallen in, even as a bowing wall and a tottering fence; those
eyes, the windows of the mind whence joy and sorrow looked forth by
turns, are now filled up with the dust of death; those lips, the doors
of the soul, the gates of Mansoul, are carried away, and the bars
thereof are broken. Alas, ye windows of agates and gates of carbuncle,
where are ye now? How shall I mourn for thee, O thou captive city, for
the mighty men have utterly spoiled thee! Thy neck, once like a tower
of ivory, has become as a fallen column; thy nose, so lately comparable
to "the tower of Lebanon, which looketh toward Damascus," is as a
ruined hovel; and thy head, which towered like Carmel, lies low as the
clods of the valley. Where is beauty now? The most lovely cannot be
known from the most deformed. The vessel so daintily wrought upon the
potter's wheel, is cast away upon the dunghill with the vilest
potsherds. Cruel have ye been, ye warriors of death, for though ye
wield no axes and bear no hammers, yet have ye broken down the carved
work; and though ye speak not with tongues, yet have ye said in your
hearts, "We have swallowed her up, certainly this is the day that we
have looked for; we have found, we have seen it." The skin is gone. The
troops have entered into the town of Mansoul. And now they pursue their
work of devastation; the pitiless marauders fall upon the body itself.
There are those noble aqueducts, the veins through which the streams of
life were wont to flow, these, instead of being rivers of life, have
become blocked up with the soil and wastes of death, and now they must
be pulled to pieces; not a single relic of them shall be spared. Mark
the muscles and sinews, like great highways that penetrating the
metropolis, carry the strength and wealth of manhood along–their
curious pavement must be pulled up, and they that do traffic thereon
must be consumed; each tunnelled bone, and curious arch, and knotted
bond must be snapped and broken. Fair fabrics, glorious storehouses,
costly engines, wonderful machines–all, all must be pulled down, and
not one stone left upon another. Those nerves, which like telegraphic
wires connected all parts of the city together, to carry thought and
feeling and intelligence–these are cut. No matter how artistic the
work might be,–and certainly we are fearfully and wonderfully made,
and the anatomist stands still and marvels to see the skill which the
eternal God has manifested in the formation of the body–but these
ruthless worms pull everything to pieces, till like a city sacked and
spoiled that has been given up for days to pillage and to flame,
everything lies in a heap of ruin–ashes to ashes, dust to dust. But
these invaders stop not here. Job says that next they consume his
reins. We are wont to speak of the heart as the great citadel of life,
the inner keep and donjon, where the captain of the guard holdeth out
to the last. The Hebrews do not regard the heart, but the lower
viscera, the reins, as the seat of the passions and of mental power.
The worms spare not; they enter the secret palaces of the tabernacle of
life, and the standard is plucked from the tower. Having died, the
heart cannot preserve itself, and falls like the rest of the frame–a
prey to worms. It is gone, it is all gone! The skin, the body, the
vitals, all, all has departed. There is nought left. In a few years ye
shall turn up the sod and say, "Here slept so-and-so, and where is he
now?", and ye may search and hunt and dig, but ye shall find no relic.
Mother Earth has devoured her own offspring.
Dear friends, why should we wish to have it otherwise? Why should we
desire to preserve the body when the soul has gone? What vain attempts
men have made with coffins of lead, and wrappings of myrrh and
frankincense. The embalming of the Egyptians, those master robbers of
the worm, what has it done? It has served to keep some poor shrivelled
lumps of mortality above ground to be sold for curiosities, to be
dragged away to foreign climes, and stared upon by thoughtless eyes.
No, let the dust go, the sooner it dissolves the better. And what
matters it how it goes! If it be devoured of beasts, if it be swallowed
up in the sea and become food for fishes! What, if plants with their
roots suck up the particles! What, if the fabric passes into the
animal, and from the animal into the earth, and from the plant into the
animal again! What, if the winds blow it along the highway! What, if
the rivers carry it to the waves of ocean! It is ordained that somehow
or other it must be all separated–"dust to dust, ashes to ashes." It
is part of the decree that it should all perish. The worms or some
other agents of destruction must destroy this body. Do not seek to
avoid what God has purposed; do not look upon it as a gloomy thing.
Regard it as a necessity; nay more, view it as the platform of a
miracle, the lofty stage of resurrection, since Jesus shall surely
raise again from the dead the particles of this body, however divided
from one another. We have heard of miracles, but what a miracle is the
resurrection! All the miracles of Scripture, yea even those wrought by
Christ, are small compared with this. The philosopher says, "How is it
possible that God shall hunt out every particle of the human frame?" He
can do it: he has but to speak the word, and every single atom, though
it may have traveled thousands of leagues, though it may have been
blown as dust across the desert, and anon have fallen upon the bosom of
the sea, and then have descended into the depths thereof to be cast up
on a desolate shore, sucked up by plants, fed on again by beasts, or
passed into the fabric of another man,–I say that individual atom
shall find its fellows, and the whole company of particles at the trump
of the archangel shall travel to their appointed place, and the body,
the very body which was laid in the ground, shall rise again.
I am afraid I have been somewhat uninteresting while tarrying upon the
exposition of the words of Job, but I think very much of the pith of
Job's faith lay in this, that he had a clear view that the worms would
after his skin destroy his body, and yet that in his flesh he should
see God. You know we might regard it as a small miracle if we could
preserve the bodies of the departed. If, by some process, with spices
and gums we could preserve the particles, for the Lord to make those
dry bones live, and to quicken that skin and flesh, were a miracle
certainly, but not palpably and plainly so great a marvel as when the
worms have destroyed the body. When the fabric has been absolutely
broken up, the tenement all pulled down, ground to pieces, and flung in
handfuls to the wind, so that no relic of it is left, and yet when
Christ stands in the latter days upon the earth, all the structure
shall be brought together, bone to his bone–then shall the might of
Omnipotence be seen. This is the doctrine of the resurrection, and
happy is he who finds no difficulty here, who looks at it as being an
impossibility with man but a possibility with God, and lays hold upon
the omnipotence of the Most High and says, "Thou sayest it, and it
shall be done!" I comprehend thee not, great God; I marvel at thy
purpose to raise my moldering bones: but I know that thou doest great
wonders, and I am not surprised that thou shouldst conclude the great
drama of thy creating works here on earth by re-creating the human
frame by the same power by which thou didst bring from the dead the
body of thy Son Jesus Christ, and by that same divine energy which has
regenerated human souls in thine own image.
II. Now, having thus descended into the grave, and seen nothing there
but what is loathsome, LET US LOOK UP WITH THE PATRIARCH AND BEHOLD A
SUN SHINING WITH PRESENT COMFORT.
"I know," said he, "that my Redeemer liveth." The word "Redeemer" here
used, is in the original "goel"–kinsman. The duty of the kinsman, or
goel, was this: suppose an Israelite had alienated his estate, as in
the case of Naomi and Ruth; suppose a patrimony which had belonged to a
family, had passed away through poverty, it was the goel's business,
the redeemer's business to pay the price as the next of kin, and to buy
back the heritage. Boaz stood in that relation to Ruth. Now, the body
may be looked upon as the heritage of the soul–the soul's small farm,
that little plot of earth in which the soul has been wont to walk and
delight, as a man walketh in his garden or dwelleth in his house. Now,
that becomes alienated. Death, like Ahab, takes away the vineyard from
us who are as Naboth; we lose our patrimonial estate; Death sends his
troops to take our vineyard and to spoil the vines thereof and ruin it.
But we turn round to Death and say, "I know that my Goel liveth, and he
will redeem this heritage; I have lost it; thou takest it from me
lawfully, O Death, because my sin hath forfeited my right; I have lost
my heritage through my own offence, and through that of my first parent
Adam; but there lives one who will buy this back." Brethren, Job could
say this of Christ long before he had descended upon earth, "I know
that he liveth;" and now that he has ascended up on high, and led
captivity captive, surely we may with double emphasis say, "I know that
my Goel, my Kinsman liveth, and that he hath paid the price, that I
should have back my patrimony, so that in my flesh I shall see God."
Yes, my hands, ye are redeemed with blood; bought not with corruptible
things, as with silver and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ.
Yes, heaving lungs and palpitating heart, ye have been redeemed! He
that redeemed the soul to be his altar has also redeemed the body, that
it may be a temple for the Holy Ghost. Not even the bones of Joseph can
remain in the house of bondage. No smell of the fire of death may pass
upon the garments which his holy children have worn in the furnace.
Remember, too, that it was always considered to be the duty of the
goel, not merely to redeem by price, but where that failed, to re- deem
by power. Hence, when Lot was carried away captive by the four kings,
Abraham summoned his own hired servants, and the servants of all his
friends, and went out against the kings of the East, and brought back
Lot and the captives of Sodom. Now, our Lord Jesus Christ, who once has
played the kinsman's part by paying the price for us, liveth, and he
will redeem us by power. O Death, thou tremblest at this name! Thou
knowest the might of our Kinsman! Against his arm thou canst not stand!
Thou didst once meet him foot to foot in stern battle, and O Death,
thou didst indeed tread upon his heel. He voluntarily submitted to
this, or else, O Death, thou hadst no power against him. But he slew
thee, Death, he slew thee! He rifled all thy caskets, took from thee
the key of thy castle, burst open the door of thy dungeon; and now,
thou knowest, Death, thou hast no power to hold my body; thou mayst set
thy slaves to devour it, but thou shalt give it up, and all their spoil
must be restored. Insatiable Death, from thy greedy maw yet shall
return the multitudes whom thou hast devoured. Thou shalt be compelled
by the Saviour to restore thy captives to the light of day. I think I
see Jesus coming with his Father's servants. The chariots of the Lord
are twenty thousand, even thousands of angels. Blow ye the trumpet!
blow ye the trumpet! Immanuel rides to battle! The Most Mighty in
majesty girds on his sword. He comes! He comes to snatch by power, his
people's lands from those who have invaded their portion. Oh, how
glorious the victory! No battle shall there be. He comes, he sees, he
conquers. The sound of the trumpet shall be enough; Death shall fly
affrighted; and at once from beds of dust and silent clay, to realms of
everlasting day the righteous shall arise.
To linger here a moment, there was yet, very conspicuously in the Old
Testament, we are informed, a third duty of the goel, which was to
avenge the death of his friend. If a person had been slain, the Goel
was the avenger of blood; snatching up his sword, he at once pursued
the person who had been guilty of bloodshed. So now, let us picture
ourselves as being smitten by Death. His arrow has just pierced us to
the heart, but in the act of expiring, our lips are able to boast of
vengeance, and in the face of the monster we cry, "I know that my Goel
liveth." Thou mayst fly, O Death, as rapidly as thou wilt, but no city
of refuge can hide thee from him; he will overtake thee; he will lay
hold upon thee, O thou skeleton monarch, and he will avenge my blood on
thee. I would that I had powers of eloquence to work out this
magnificent thought. Chrysostom, or Christmas Evans could picture the
flight of the King of Terrors, the pursuit by the Redeemer, the
overtaking of the foe, and the slaying of the destroyer. Christ shall
certainly avenge himself on Death for all the injury which Death hath
done to his beloved kinsmen. Comfort thyself then, O Christian; thou
hast ever living, even when thou diest, one who avenges thee, one who
has paid the price for thee, and one whose strong arms shall yet set
thee free.
Passing on in our text to notice the next word, it seems that Job found
consolation not only in the fact that he had a Goel, a Redeemer, but
that this Redeemer liveth. He does not say, "I know that my Goel shall
live, but that he lives,"–having a clear view of the self-existence of
the Lord Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today, and forever. And you
and I looking back do not say, "I know that he did live, but he lives
today." This very day you that mourn and sorrow for venerated friends,
your prop and pillar in years gone by, you may go to Christ with
confidence, because he not only lives, but he is the source of life;
and you therefore believe that he can give forth out of himself life to
those whom you have committed to the tomb. He is the Lord and giver of
life originally, and he shall be specially declared to be the
resurrection and the life, when the legions of his redeemed shall be
glorified with him. If I saw no fountain from which life could stream
to the dead, I would yet believe the promise when God said that the
dead shall live; but when I see the fountain provided, and know that it
is full to the brim and that it runneth over, I can rejoice without
trembling. Since there is one who can say, "I am the Resurrection and
the Life," it is a blessed thing to see the means already before us in
the person of our Lord Jesus Christ. Let us look up to our Goel then
who liveth at this very time.
Still the marrow of Job's comfort it seems to me lay in that little
word "My." "I know that MY Redeemer liveth." Oh, to get hold of Christ!
I know that in his offices he is precious. But, dear friends, we must
get a property in him before we call really enjoy him. What is honey in
the wood to me, if like the fainting Israelites, I dare not eat. It is
honey in my hand, honey on my lip, which enlightens mine eyes like
those of Jonathan. What is gold in the mine to me? Men are beggars in
Peru, and beg their bread in California. It is gold in my purse which
will satisfy my necessities, purchasing the bread I need. So, what is a
kinsman if he be not a kinsman to me? A Redeemer that does not redeem
me, an avenger who will never stand up for my blood, of what avail were
such? But Job's faith was strong and firm in the conviction that the
Redeemer was his. Dear friends, dear friends, can all of you say, "I
know that my Redeemer liveth." The question is simple and simply put;
but oh, what solemn things hang upon your answer, "Is it MY Redeemer?"
I charge you rest not, be not content until by faith you can say, "Yes,
I cast myself upon him; I am his, and therefore he is mine." I know
that full many of you, while you look upon all else that you have as
not being yours, yet can say, "My Redeemer is mine." He is the only
piece of property which is really ours. We borrow all else, the house,
the children, nay, our very body we must return to the Great Lender.
But Jesus, we can never leave, for even when we are absent form the
body we are present with the Lord, and I know that even death cannot
separate us from him, so that body and soul are with Jesus truly even
in the dark hours of death, in the long night of the sepulchre, and in
the separate state of spiritual existence. Beloved, have you Christ? It
may be you hold him with a feeble hand, you half think it is
presumption to say, "He is my Redeemer;" yet remember, if you have but
faith as a grain of mustard seed, that little faith entitles you to
say, and say now, "I know that my Redeemer liveth."
There is another word in this consoling sentence which no doubt served
to give a zest to the comfort of Job. It was that he could say, "I
KNOW"–"I KNOW that my Redeemer liveth." To say, "I hope so, I trust
so," is comfortable; and there are thousands in the fold of Jesus who
hardly ever get much further. But to reach the marrow of consolation
you must say, "I KNOW." Ifs, buts, and perhapses, are sure murderers of
peace and comfort. Doubts are dreary things in times of sorrow. Like
wasps they sting the soul! If I have any suspicion that Christ is not
mine, then there is vinegar mingled with the gall of death. But if I
know that Jesus is mine, then darkness is not dark; even the night is
light about me. Out of the lion cometh honey; out of the eater cometh
forth sweetness. "I know that my Redeemer liveth." This is a
brightly-burning lamp cheering the damps of the sepulchral vault, but a
feeble hope is like a flickering smoking flax, just making darkness
visible, but nothing more. I would not like to die with a mere hope
mingled with suspicion. I might be safe with this but hardly happy; but
oh, to go down into the river knowing that all is well, confident that
as a guilty, weak, and helpless worm I have – fallen into the arms of
Jesus, and believing that he is able to keep that which I have
committed to him. I would have you, dear Christian friends, never look
upon the full assurance of faith as a thing impossible to you. Say not,
"It is too high; I cannot attain unto it." I have known one or two
saints of God who have rarely doubted their interest at all. There are
many of us who do not often enjoy any ravishing ecstacies, but on the
other hand we generally maintain the even tenor of our way, simply
hanging upon Christ, feeling that his promise is true, that his merits
are sufficient, and that we are safe. Assurance is a jewel for worth
but not for rarity. It is the common privilege of all the saints if
they have but the grace to attain unto it, and this grace the Holy
Spirit gives freely. Surely if Job in Arabia, in those dark misty ages
when there was only the morning star and not the sun, when they saw but
little when life and immortality had not been brought to light,–if Job
before the coming and advent still could say, "I know," you and I
should not speak less positively. God forbid that our positiveness
should be presumption. Let us try ourselves, and see that our marks and
evidences are right, lest we form an ungrounded hope; for nothing can
be more destructive than to say, "Peace, peace, where there is no
peace." But oh, let us build for eternity, and build solidly. Let us
not be satisfied with the mere foundation, for it is from the upper
rooms that we get the widest prospect. Let us pray the Lord to help us
to pile stone on stone, until we are able to say as we look at it,
"Yes, I know, I KNOW that my Redeemer liveth." This, then, for present
comfort today in the prospect of departure.
III. And now, in the third and last place, as THE ANTICIPATION OF
FUTURE DELIGHT, let me call to your remembrance the other part of the
text. Job not only knew that the Redeemer lived, but he anticipated the
time when he should stand in the latter day upon the earth. No doubt
Job referred here to our Saviour's first advent, to the time when Jesus
Christ, "the goel," the kinsman, should stand upon the earth to pay in
the blood of his veins the ransom price, which had, indeed, in bond and
stipulation been paid before the foundation of the world in promise.
But I cannot think that Job's vision stayed there; he was looking
forward to the second advent of Christ as being the period of the
resurrection. We cannot endorse the theory that Job arose from the dead
when our Lord died, although certain Jewish believers held this idea
very firmly at one time. We are persuaded that "the latter day" refers
to the advent of glory rather than to that of shame. Our hope is that
the Lord shall come to reign in glory where he once died in agony. The
bright and hallowed doctrine of the second advent has been greatly
revived in our churches in these latter days, and I look for the best
results in consequence. There is always a danger lest it be perverted
and turned by fanatical minds, by prophetic speculations, into an
abuse; but the doctrine in itself is one of the most consoling, and, at
the same time, one of the most practical, tending to keep the Christian
awake, because the bridegroom cometh at such an hour as we think not.
Beloved, we believe that the same Jesus who ascended from Olivet shall
so come in like manner as he ascended up into heaven. We believe in his
personal advent and reign. We believe and expect that when both wise
and foolish virgins shall slumber; in the night when sleep is heavy
upon the saints; when men shall be eating and drinking as in the days
of Noah, that suddenly as the lightning flasheth from hea- ven, so
Christ shall descend with a shout, and the dead in Christ shall rise
and reign with him. We are looking forward to the literal, personal and
actual standing of Christ upon earth as the time when creation's groans
shall be silenced forever, and the earnest expectation of the creature
shall be fulfilled.
Mark, that Job describes Christ as standing. Some interpreters have
read the passage, "he shall stand in the latter days against the
earth;" that as the earth has covered up the slain, as the earth has
become the charnel-house of the dead, Jesus shall arise to the contest
and say, "Earth, I am against thee; give up thy dead! Ye clods of the
valley cease to be custodians of my people's bodies! Silent deeps, and
you, ye caverns of the earth, deliver, once for all, those whom ye have
imprisoned!" Macphelah shall give up its precious treasure, cemeteries
and graveyards shall release their captives, and all the deep places of
the earth shall resign the bodies of the faithful. Well, whether that
be so or no, the posture of Christ, in standing upon the earth, is
significant. It shows his triumph. He has triumphed over sin, which
once like a serpent in its coils had bound the earth. He has defeated
Satan. On the very spot where Satan gained his power Christ has gained
the victory. Earth, which was a scene of defeated goodness, whence
mercy once was all but driven, where virtue died, where everything
heavenly and pure, like flowers blasted by pestilential winds, hung
down their heads, withered and blighted–on this very earth everything
that is glorious shall blow and blossom in perfection; and Christ
himself, once despised and rejected of men, fairest of all the sons of
men, shall come in the midst of a crowd of courtiers, while kings and
princes shall do him homage, and all the nations shall call him
blessed. "He shall stand in the latter day upon the earth."
Then, at that auspicious hour, says Job, "In my flesh I shall see God."
Oh, blessed anticipation–"I shall see God." He does not say, "I shall
see the saints"–doubtless we shall see them all in heaven–but, "I
shall see God." Note he does not say, "I shall see the pearly gates, I
shall see the walls of jasper, I shall see the crowns of gold and the
harps of harmony," but "I shall see God;" as if that were the sum and
substance of heaven. "In my flesh shall I see God." The pure in heart
shall see God. It was their delight to see him in the ordinances by
faith. They delighted to behold him in communion and in prayer. There
in heaven they shall have a vision of another sort. We shall see God in
heaven, and be made completely like him; the divine character shall be
stamped upon us; and being made like to him we shall be perfectly
satisfied and content. Likeness to God, what can we wish for more? And
a sight of God, what can we desire better? We shall see God and so
there shall be perfect contentment to the soul and a satisfaction of
all the faculties. Some read the passage, "Yet, I shall see God in my
flesh," and hence think that there is here an allusion to Christ, our
Lord Jesus Christ, as the word made flesh. Well, be it so, or be it not
so, it is certain that we shall see Christ, and He, as the divine
Redeemer, shall be the subject of our eternal vision. Nor shall we ever
want any joy beyond simply that of seeing him. Think not, dear friend,
that this will be a narrow sphere for our mind to dwell in. It is but
one source of delight, "I shall see God," but that source is infinite.
His wisdom, his love, his power, all his attributes shall be subjects
for your eternal contemplation, and as he is infinite under each aspect
there is no fear of exhaustion. His works, his purposes, his gifts, his
love to you, and his glory in all his purposes, and in all his deeds of
love–why, these shall make a theme that never can be exhausted. You
may with divine delight anticipate the time when in your flesh you
shall see God.
But I must have you observe how Job has expressly made us note that it
is in the same body. "Yet, in my flesh shall I see God;" and then he
says again, "whom I shall see for myself, and mine eye shall behold and
not another." Yes, it is true that I, the very man standing here,
though I must go down to die, yet I shall as the same man most
certainly arise and shall behold my God. Not part of myself, though the
soul alone shall have some view of God, but the whole of myself, my
flesh, my soul, my body, my spirit shall gaze on God. We shall not
enter heaven, dear friends, as a dismasted vessel is tugged into
harbor; we shall not get to glory some on boards, and some on broken
pieces of the ship, but the whole ship shall be floated safely into the
haven, body and soul both being safe. Christ shall be able to say, "All
that the father giveth to me shall come to me," not only all the
persons, but all of the persons–each man in his perfection. There
shall not be found in heaven one imperfect saint. There shall not be a
saint without an eye, much less a saint without a body. No member of
the body shall have perished; nor shall the body have lost any of its
natural beauty. All the saints shall be all there, and all of all; the
same persons precisely, only that they shall have risen from a state of
grace to a state of glory. They shall be ripened; they shall be no more
the green blades, but the full corn in the ear; no more buds but
flowers; not babes but men.
Please to notice, and then I shall conclude, how the patriarch puts it
as being a real personal enjoyment. "Whom mine eye shall behold, and
not another." They shall not bring me a report as they did the Queen of
Sheba, but I shall see Solomon the King for myself. I shall be able to
say, as they did who spake to the woman of Samaria, "Now I believe, not
because of thy word who did bring me a report, but I have seen him for
myself." There shall be personal intercourse with God; not through the
Book, which is but as a glass; not through the ordinances; but
directly, in the person of our Lord Jesus Christ, we shall be able to
commune with the Deity as a man talketh with his friend. "Not another."
If I could be a changeling and could be altered, that would mar my
comfort. Or if my heaven must be enjoyed by proxy, if draughts of bliss
must be drunk for me, where were the hope? Oh, no; for myself, and not
through another, shall I see God. Have we not told you a hundred times
that nothing but personal religion will do, and is not this another
argument for it, because resurrection and glory are personal things?
"Not another." If you could have sponsors to repent for you, then,
depend upon it, you would have sponsors to be glorified for you. But as
there is not another to see God for you, so you must yourself see and
yourself find an interest in the Lord Jesus Christ.
In closing let me observe how foolish have you and I been when we have
looked forward to death with shudders, with doubts, with loathings.
After all, what is it? Worms! Do ye tremble at those base crawling
things? Scattered particles! Shall we be alarmed at these? To meet the
worms we have the angels; and to gather the scattered particles we have
the voice of God. I am sure the gloom of death is altogether gone now
that the lamp of resurrection burns. Disrobing is nothing now that
better garments await us. We may long for evening to undress, that we
may rise with God. I am sure my venerable friends now present, in
coming so near as they do now to the time of the departure, must have
some visions of the glory on the other side the stream. Bunyan was not
wrong, my dear brethren, when he put the land Beulah at the close of
the pilgrimage. Is not my text a telescope which will enable you to see
across the Jordan; may it not be as hands of angels to bring you
bundles of myrrh and frankincense? You can say, "I know that my
Redeemer liveth." You cannot want more; you were not satisfied with
less in your youth, you will not be content with less now. Those of us
who are young, are comforted by the thought that we may soon depart. I
say comforted, not alarmed by it; and we almost envy those whose race
is nearly run, because we fear–and yet we must not speak thus, for the
Lord's will be done–I was about to say, we fear that our battle may
last long, and that mayhap our feet may slip; only he that keepeth
Israel does not slumber nor sleep. So since we know that our Redeemer
liveth, this shall be our comfort in life, that though we fall we shall
not be utterly cast down; and since our Redeemer liveth, this shall be
our comfort in death, that though worms destroy this body, yet in our
flesh we shall see God.
May the Lord add his blessing on the feeble words of this morning, and
to him be glory forever. Amen.
Grave, the guardian of our dust!
Grave, the treasury of the skies!
Every atom of thy trust
Rests in hope again to rise.
Hark! the judgment trumpet calls;
Soul, rebuild thy house of clay,
Immortality thy walls,
And Eternity thy day.