The Minister’S Stock-Taking

The Minister'S Stock-Taking
A SERMON DELIVERED BY THE REV. C. H. SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN
TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.
"And some believed the things which were spoken and some believed not."
Acts 28:24.
THIS is the only proper way to calculate the results of our ministry.
We just want the account book ruled with two columns. On one side we
must put down the long list of the some that believe not. And on the
brighter side we may enter what is, too often, the far less number of
the some that believe. This is the only true method, I repeat it, by
which we can hold a stock-taking so as to ascertain the net profit of
the preaching of the Gospel. We must not estimate the good that is done
by the number of those who listen. It is a very pleasant thing to see
the House of Prayer filled to overflowing.
It is intensely delightful to reflect that often on the Sunday evening
in London the theatres are full, St. Paul's Cathedral is full, and
multitudes of Churches and Chapels are crowded with willing listeners.
Still, it is not all pleasure. Instead of its being of any advantage
for the persons who have heard the Gospel but have not believed, it
will rather increase their doom. If they have only heard, and the Truth
of God has penetrated no deeper than the natural ear, then alas for the
preachers who have spent their strength for nothing! And alas for the
multitudes who, having ears, have heard as though they heard not!
Nor ought we to calculate the result of our work by the persons who
have been pleased with our ministry. What man is not gratified when he
hears that the people have been pleased with his preaching? It were not
in flesh and blood for a man to be unpleased by applause. The love of
praise is ingrained in human nature–
"The proud to gain it toils on toils endure, The modest shun it but to
make it sure." But still, it were a miserable thing if all that a man
accomplishes is just to win the ear and to strike the people with
wonder at the amazing way in which he could utter forth the Words of
Truth. Shall God's servants live upon the breath of men's nostrils? Can
the approbation of the crowd be nutritious enough to constitute the
solid food of a God-sent herald of the Cross?
Never! When a man has to die, this shall give him no comfort. To have
preached faithfully, though some were angry, will always be
consolatory. To have preached unfaithfully, or to have held back any
part of the Truth of God, though he may have won universal acclaim,
would be but a passport to perdition at the last. No, no, if our
ministry has only pleased people it is good for nothing. A sermon often
does a man most good when it makes him most angry. Those people who
walk down the aisles and say, "I will never listen to that man again,"
very often have an arrow rankling in their breast.
Smarting from a wound that never will be healed till God heals it–they
will come again right enough. Others, alas, who are quite pleased and
delighted, will come and go from the place of the holy, unimpressed and
unimpressionable as slabs of marble–down which the oil runs without
producing the slightest impression.
Nor even dare we hastily to calculate the effect of our ministry by the
number of persons impressed with serious convictions. Of course, it is
a hopeful sign to see the people weep under the Word, especially if it
is the Gospel that moves them to weep and not the pathos of the
preacher. I do not think it does anybody much good spiritually when
tears are excited simply by the description of a funeral, or by being
reminded of one's childhood, or of one's parents. Some preachers appeal
much to the passions and think when the congregation are weeping, good
is being done. I do not see the use of it at all.
When the preacher can make these natural emotions a platform upon which
to stand and work upon the conscience, then it is well and good. But if
he has only succeeded in drawing briny tears from mortal eyes, they may
flow until the floor is watered with them without any salutary result.
We must go deeper than the eyes. We want to make the heart weep. We
want tears of penitence for sin, not tears of regret for departed
husbands and wives. We want emotions which spring from a startled
conscience–not those which come from a want of resignation to the
Divine will. No, dear Friends, we have done nothing after we have
preached a thousand times unless we can write down that some believe on
the Lord Jesus.
I. Turning to our text a little more closely, let us remark, in the
first place, that UNDER THE BEST MINISTRY IN THE WORLD THE RESULTS WILL
BE DIVERSE, AND THAT YOU WANT TWO COLUMNS TO WRITE THE
ACCOUNT IN.
There will always be the some that believe and the some that believe
not. This is not altogether the minister's fault. It is the custom of
the age to blame ministers very much, and I dare say we deserve it. But
still the blame in this matter does not lay entirely with us, for even
when Paul preached–a model preacher, he!–there were, "some believed
the things which were spoken, and some believed not." Did I say that
Paul was a model preacher? Let me prove it. Was he not a model preacher
as to matter?
There are some persons who greatly admire a doctrinal preacher. They
like a man who will lay down the doctrines as a master-builder would
put the stones–one here, another there–each one in its proper place.
When they go up to the House of Prayer they say they want really to
learn something, to get some thought, to get a deeper insight into some
great Biblical Truth, and they are not satisfied unless their
understandings are provided for. Mere appeals to the passions they do
not care about. They want to have their minds enlightened.
Well, a doctrinal preacher is an exceedingly useful man, especially if
he does not degenerate into endless controversy, preaching Christ of
envy and strife. I have heard it said that while a course of some
twelve lectures by any ordinary lecturer on geology would give you a
pretty clear idea of the science, you might sit and listen to twelve
hundred sermons upon Christianity by some ministers and never get an
idea of what are its fundamental doctrines. If it is so, it is a crying
evil, and grievously will the Church have to answer for it in the ill
that will come upon her. It may be so in some cases, but I am sure it
was not so with the Apostle Paul.
Who could preach doctrine more clearly than he did? If you want the
very highest doctrine, read the ninth chapter of Romans. If you would
have a clear system of Truth, read the Epistle to the Ephesians. If a
young man wants to get a body of Divinity in miniature, he has only to
read that Epistle. The Apostle is full of the most weighty matter and
the most important Truths. He keeps back nothing that is profitable for
the people. He can say, "I have not shunned to declare the whole
counsel of God." To him it never was a question as to which part of the
Truth would best please the people. He gave them the whole of it in due
season.
But yet even under the Apostle Paul there were some that believed not!
And you, young Man, if you have been listening to the Gospel under any
minister, if you have not been converted, neither would you have been
if you had heard Paul. Having Moses and the Prophets with you at this
day, if you do not believe them, neither would you be converted, though
an Apostle should rise from the dead.
I think I hear one observe–"Well, I do not care for a doctrinal
preacher myself. I like an experimental preacher best." Be it so, dear
Friend, and I can fully approve your choice. I like an experimental
preacher, because he can get inside a man's heart and see what is
there. He knows just what I am and what I feel. If I am distressed, he
has been distressed, too. And he can talk of my temptations and of my
trials, because they have been his own. If I am full of comfort or full
of joy he has been up on the mountain, too, and he tells me of my
ecstasy and of my delights. If I find some knotty passage in my inner
life, he can translate it for me, for he has been through it all
himself.
Perhaps of the three orders of preachers–the doctrinal, the
experimental, and the practical–the experimental preacher is the most
useful. I think if one had to choose which should be his pastor, he
should prefer such a man as this, for a ministry without any experience
in it must be a very poor, miserable, savorless thing to the people of
God. But do you not think that in this respect the Apostle Paul,
himself, was a perfect model? Would you understand the conflicts of the
human heart? Does not Paul paint them to life as he says–"When I would
do good, evil is present with me. To will is present with me, but how
to perform that which is good I find not"? And again, "O wretched man
that I am! Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?"
Does he not just express the sighing and longing of all the children of
God who have been vexed with contests within? On the other hand, if you
have high and glorious frames, the Apostle can go with you, and beyond
you, and tell you of times when he was caught up to the third heavens
and heard things which it is not possible for a man to utter. Are you
full of assurance and confidence? Then Paul preaches to you from this
text–"I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor
principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor
height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us
from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
Are you full of apprehensions? Then he fears and trembles with
you–"Lest that by any means when I have preached to others, I myself
should be a castaway." Paul had his doubts and fears and was afraid
that he might perish, after all. Yet he had his high flights and
glorious confidences and knew that the Believer in Christ could never
be cast away. But mark you, if you have listened to the preaching of
the Gospel and have remained an unbeliever under it, neither would you
be converted though the Apostle Paul's deep experimental knowledge
should be brought to bear upon your conscience. For even under him
there were some that believed not–and so I suppose it would be even
were he here now.
Then there is the practical preacher and some men greatly admire him.
So do I if he does not become legal, and if he does not degenerate into
a preacher of mere morality. If he shall urge holiness upon the people
of God, from evangelical motives, he may be very useful. But if upon
legal terms he strives to stir the people of God to good works, he will
do more harm than good. Yes, the practical preacher is very useful. The
man who tells me precisely what my duty is in my sphere of life. The
preacher who talks to me as a husband, a master, a servant, or as a
son–who when I come after the cares of the week and sit down in my
pew–refreshes my memory about my week's faults, and tells me how to
behave myself during the week that is to come–such a man is useful.
And who ever did this so well as the Apostle Paul? That same Epistle to
the Ephesians, which is an epitome of doctrinal theology, also contains
the practical precepts of the Gospel fully written out. Children,
parents, fathers, husbands, wives, servants, masters–the Apostle has a
word to everyone. He is pre-eminently practical, generally basing his
appeals for righteous conduct upon some Divine motive. Yet, dear
Friends, if you have not been converted, I have no reason to believe it
is because your ministers fail on the practical points. For even had
you heard the Apostle, who was a pattern in this respect, neither would
you have been converted, for under him some believed not.
Now put the practical, the experimental, and the doctrinal together,
and you get the model exhibited in the Apostle Paul. Would that we had
such preachers in all pulpits, and such ministers to preside over all
flocks. But even if such were given to us, there would still be some
that believed not. "Yes, yes," says one, "I do not doubt that the
matter was right enough. But you know there is more required of a
preacher than matter. It is manner we want." Well now, I hold that the
Apostle Paul was a model preacher as to manner, too. He was a bold
preacher. He never feared the face of man, but preached just what the
Lord told him, in the Lord's own words, whether men would hear or
whether they would not.
He was an eloquent preacher. Barnabas was no mean speaker, but Paul was
a better speaker than he was. For at Ly-stra they called Paul,
"Mercury," and Mercury was their god of eloquence. Perhaps the
concluding part of the eighth chapter of Romans is the most remarkable
piece of human language ever known. He who wrote it was a master, able
to soar with eagle wings to any height, yet willing for the most part
to keep near the ground. "Not with enticing words of man's wisdom, but
with simplicity and godly sincerity he ordered his speech." He was a
profound thinker, capable of the deepest argument or the finest
allegory, but withal an easy talker, who loved to tell of the Grace of
God.
When occasion required, as an impassioned orator, his thunders could
make Festus tremble. And his persuasive appeals could wring confessions
from Agrippa. But as a teacher in the Church of God, he was
proverbially plain spoken. He spoke like a child, and babes in Divine
Grace were fed under his ministry as with pure milk. This is just the
style we want. Not the simplicity of ignorance, but the dignified
simplicity of the man who has really the highest intellect, if he cared
to show it, but who rather chooses to instruct the poor and ignorant.
Then the Apostle was very affectionate with his boldness and
simplicity. He loved the souls of men. He felt sometimes such a
passionate longing to save souls, that he was almost ready to lose his
own soul, if he might but save others.
"Oh," you say, "but that was an extravagant thing for him to say." Yes,
love is often extravagant, and I will never believe that a man has any
love at all if he speaks in a cold, calculating way. Love must
sometimes speak in rapturous phrases, which in its cooler moments it
would not endorse. When I hear the Apostle say, "I could wish myself
accursed from Christ for my Brothers and Sisters according to the
flesh," I understand what his love means. He feels as if his own
personal interest in Jesus he would gladly give up, if he might but see
his own kindred saved. It is in a spirit akin with that of Moses, when
he said, "If not, blot my name out of the Book of Life."
Dear, dear! How critics and commentators have stumbled over these two
passages! They cannot make it out. They cannot understand it. But I
tell you, Paul meant exactly what he said. I have felt the same strong
emotion boiling in my own soul when I have looked upon some immense
congregation and my heart has yearned for their conversion. I have felt
that if I could die as a substitute for them I would do it. Of course,
in more sober moments, no man would ever barter his own soul's
salvation on any account–nor is it possible that such a ransom could
be accepted. Still, love makes one feel as if even that were less than
the evil that threatens our people and we exclaim, with Esther, "How
can I endure to see the destruction of my kindred?"
The Apostle, thus full of eloquence, of love, and of holy boldness,
seeking after souls, pressing them home with blessed arguments,
pleading with them night and day with many tears–was a faithful and a
perfect minister–as nearly so as mortal can be. "Oh," says one, "I
wish I sat under such a minister!" Yes, but are you converted to God?
For if you are not, I am not sure that you would be saved if you had
Paul, himself, for a pastor. If at your wish he could leave his grave,
start up, unwrap his cerements and address you from this pulpit, I have
no reason to believe that his voice would have any more power over you
than another man's voice. Paul would plant in vain where others have
not been successful. And if you have not believed on Jesus with this
Book in your houses, with your Sabbaths repeated hundreds of times,
with earnest, affectionate parents, and with loving friends, neither
would you be converted though Paul rose from the dead.
II. I now proceed to notice, in the second place, THE TWO SORTS OF
PEOPLE, AND THE REASON WHY
SOME BELIEVED, AND WHY SOME BELIEVED NOT.
There were some that believed. Shall I describe them? So far as one
young man is concerned, I will just give a little sketch of his history
and that sketch will suffice for all. He dropped in one Sunday morning
to hear the preacher. He stood in the aisle, for he did not intend to
stay the whole time. But the place was full and he could not get out.
He listened. He thought it very commonplace. It did not attract his
attention much. But all of a sudden–yes, it was so–the Truth of God
dropped right into his heart. He listened with greater interest than he
had done before. He gathered himself up. Another sentence came.
When he came in, he was like a man in armor. All the shots fell upon
his armor and were repelled. But now something had got in between the
joints. He listened again. The preacher went on to discourse of
righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come, and the young man felt
as if there was no one else in the place. The minister's eyes were on
him. He began to tremble. "What must I do to be saved?" was the
language that was in his heart, though he could not utter it with his
lips. He walked out of that aisle a calm and quiet man. He went home.
There was no talking on the way. He went into his chamber.
Well, I will not say he prayed the first time but it was something like
it, for he breathed out words like these, "Oh, ah, would that!" He
began to have living desires after the living God. In the evening he
went to the House of God again. It seemed that night as if the preacher
prepared a most terrible sermon on purpose for him. The whole sermon
through, the great hammer of God seemed to be breaking his flinty heart
smaller and smaller till there was not a single piece of it that was
not ground to powder. He could not help feeling that there was no hope
for him–that mercy would never reach his case. He had thought that
morning that he was about as good as most people, and that if it did
not fare well with him, it would fare ill with all the world. But now
he felt himself to be the vilest of the vile. He could not understand
it, nor could his friends, either.
They thought he had been taken with a fit of melancholy. They hoped it
would wear off. But it did not wear off. He was very quiet that week.
He could not go out with his friends to places of amusement as he had
been accustomed to do. One of them did get him to one place, but he was
so miserable that he came out when it was half over and said, "I have
no taste for such things now. I cannot stay." Well, I do not know how
long it was that this went on–in some cases it is only a few minutes,
in others it is a long, long time. I knew one young man with whom it
lasted for five years–and he stands here today to tell of that long
period of affliction.
That young man went in a state of sadness and grief on account of sin,
seeking rest and finding none, till one morning the preacher lifted up
Christ upon the Cross and said–this is the import of the words he
used–"You see the Hebrew Prophet raise the brazen serpent high upon
the Cross. Look, look, you that are bitten with serpents! Turn here
your eyes–however swollen you are, do but look! There is life in a
look at the brazen serpent for any of you, for all of you."
And then the preacher said, "See Jesus hanging there on His Cross? His
wounds are streaming. His head is bowed down with grief. There is life
in a look at the Crucified. Sinner, there is life this moment for you."
He explained that to look was simply to trust Christ and to put one's
confidence in the blood and merits of the Lord Jesus. Well, the young
man had heard that a great many times, but he had never heard it with
his conscience before. It had never sunk deep down into his heart. Now
it came home to him. Standing there in the aisle just as he was,
conscious of his guilt and ruin, he turned his eyes to Jesus. He
looked. He lived. He went his way like a man who had received a new
life. He was blessed, happy, joyful! A tremendous burden had rolled
into the deep sepulcher. The chains had been snapped from his manacled
wrists. He was free! And whereas he could not creep before, he now ran
and danced for joy and gladness of heart!
That is how it all came about. The conversion was so worked by his
simply hearing his ruin and learning the remedy. The young man waited
awhile in prayer and silent meditation and matured the piety which God
had given him. He then came forward and made a profession of his faith.
It was a happy day when he saw the pastor and told his experience, when
he was joined to the Church and separated from the world. From that day
all that knew him could but marvel at the change.
And now comes the question, "Why did some believe?" Well, it was not
any difference in the preacher, for the same preacher addressed both.
It was not any difference in the sermon, for the same sermon was
preached to all the people and yet some believed and some did not. It
could not be the power of persuasion, for there were some that were
persuaded and some that were not by the very same address. Nor can we
attribute it to a difference of constitution, for that were to make
salvation of works, and not of Divine Grace. Were we to bring up the
old legal Covenant again, and thus preach another Gospel, then we
should be accursed. I only know of one answer to this question, "Why
did some believe?"
And the answer is this–because God willed it. "He will have mercy on
whom He will have mercy, and He will have compassion on whom He will
have compassion." "It is not of him that wills, nor of him that runs,
but of God that shows mercy." If any man is saved, it is not because he
willed to be saved. If any man is brought to Christ, it is not of any
effort of his. The root, the cause, the motive of the salvation of any
human being, and of all the chosen in Heaven is to be found in the
predestinating purpose and sovereign distinguishing will of the Lord,
our God. I know some Christians do not hold this as a doctrine, but I
believe there is no Christian alive who does not believe it as a matter
of experience.
I was once with a good Christian man who was a little blind in both
eyes, and he laid down this theory–if God gave Grace to one, He was
bound–just listen to this–He was bound to give it to all. God, he
said, was no respecter of persons, which I interpret to mean that He
did not owe anything to anybody, but did just as He liked with them.
But he understood it to mean that God gave alike to all, and that if He
gave anything to one, He must give the same to another. You see,
however, that if it is a matter of debt to anybody, then it is not a
matter of Grace any longer. Well, after that, we had prayer, and my
friend prayed for his own family and his unconverted relatives–yes,
actually prayed to God to give more Grace to them that they might
believe and be saved!
When he had done, I said, "Well now, that would have been a very proper
prayer for me to offer, because I think it just for God to give more to
one than He does to another. But it was a very improper prayer for you,
and completely subversive of your own theory. In fact, you have no
right to make a distinction, and to pray for your own child more than
for anybody else's child. According to your scheme you believe that God
ought to serve all alike, whereas I believe that no man has any claim
on God–that if He pleases to save anyone He has a right to do it–and
that if men perish they perish because they deserve to perish. And I,
therefore, can present special petitions to God for special persons."
I remember hearing of a case where a very high Calvinistic Brother
never would believe that a Wesleyan could have the Grace of God in him,
so bigoted was he to his own views. One night there was a Prayer
Meeting and the gas would not light. They could not get it to light,
and at last it was proposed to hold the meeting in the dark. A Wesleyan
prayed first. He was at the far end of the room and he prayed, oh, so
sweetly! Our Calvinistic friend said–"What a delightful prayer! What a
depth of doctrinal knowledge! What a blessed character that person must
be!"
So he watched for him when he came out–he stood at the door to find
him. And to his surprise discovered who had been offering the prayer
that was so full of Divine Grace and the Truth of God. I believe that
if once we came to real, experimental godliness, we should not find a
child of God anywhere that would not in some form or other subscribe to
the substance of what I have asserted–that it is God who quickens the
souls of those who believe–and that if men are saved all the glory
must be unto God from first to last. And not an atom nor a particle can
be attributed to the goodness, or the power, or the will of the
creature. This is a doctrine which some people have not learned very
fully yet, but they will have to learn it if they are God's people.
Jonah, you know, had never learned it from the schools, but when the
Lord got him in the whale's belly, at the bottom of the mountains, with
the weeds wrapped about his head, then it was that he said, "Salvation
is of the Lord." And often some sore trials and terrible afflictions
are necessary schoolmasters to teach us this lesson–that salvation is
of the Lord, alone.
Now let me change the note and speak a few words respecting the some
that believe not. They are of different characters. Some of you were
brought up at a Sunday school. You have attended a place of worship
nearly all your lives, and yet you have not believed in Christ. There
are others who do not often go to the House of God–in fact they have
got into the habit of spending their Sundays in dissipation or
frivolity. These are among the some that believe not, and some of them
try to quiet their conscience by pretending that they do not believe
the Bible to be true.
They set up for Atheists, or Deists, or Freethinkers, and when they can
get some fools to applaud them, they vent out their spleen against the
Saints, and their blasphemy against God–albeit they do not believe
their own blasphemies. Their consciences are uneasy. Atheism affords no
rest for the sole of man's foot. Let a man go to the utmost extent in
abandoning moral restraints and disowning religious obligations, there
is still an aching void within him which even Hell itself cannot fill.
The man feels that he wants something, he knows not what, but it is the
Cross of Christ and faith in a crucified Savior that alone can supply
the cravings of man's inner nature.
Some of these people that believe not are very moral. There is that
young lady yonder, amiable and admirable in her degree, but she does
not believe, therefore the crudeness of her tastes, the want of harmony
in the colors that vary her disposition. There is that young man over
there who is full of commercial integrity, his employer would trust him
with a bag of untold gold. But he is among the some that believe not.
And with strange inconsistency he relies on one virtue which procures
him respect among men, to cover a thousand vices which proclaim his
alienation from God.
On the other hand, there are a great many of them who are debauched and
who go very far astray. We must put you all down together. There are no
third parties. You either believe or you do not. If you have believed
in Jesus, bless and praise almighty God, but if you have not, listen a
moment while I try to answer the question–Why do you not believe?
There are some people who will be ready to say, "Just listen what
contradictory doctrine is preached!" I cannot help it. The only reason
why you do not believe in Christ is because you will not. The reason
why you are an unbeliever at this hour is your own will, and nothing
but your own will.
It is not that you have not heard the Gospel. You have heard it! It is
not because it is unworthy of your credence. It is the most reliable
intelligence in all the world. It is not because it does not deserve
your faith. It claims and demands it. It is not because you have never
been aroused. You have had impressions without number. You know when
you had that fever. You know there was a something striving with you
that would have brought you to the Cross, but you would not come. The
reason why you have not come to Jesus is contained in Christ's own
words–"You will not come unto Me that you might have life."
Give me not back an answer that would excuse yourself and charge God
foolishly. It is not God's fault that you are not a Believer. It is
your own fault and your own fault, alone. I know there are some very
wicked persons, and some on the other hand, who claim to be very
orthodox, who lay the damnation of men at God's door–but God forbid
that your soul or mine should have any sympathy with such blasphemy as
that! I will suppose a case. There is a woman who has stabbed her own
child, reddened her hands with the blood of her own offspring. She is
brought up to the court to be tried for murder, and she makes use of a
singular defense.
Her counsel bids her be silent. But she will speak. She says, "My Lord
and gentlemen of the jury, I am not guilty. I did stab my child it is
true, but I did it as the agent of God. I was decreed to do it. I could
not help it. I was predestinated to do it, and the fault, therefore,
lies not with me, but with God." Now the impression made in the court
would be this–that a person whose moral sense was so depraved would be
quite capable of murder or any other crime. A state of heart which
would allow a person to give utterance to such a saying against God
would allow murder to be thought of without any compunction whatever. I
should not wonder at such a remark being made by the culprit.
But suppose the lawyer, himself, the woman's counsel, should get up and
claim the attention of the judge and the jury, and should say,
"Gentlemen, really, this woman is not guilty when you come to think of
it, for it was foreordained from before the foundation of the world
that she should do this. She was predestinated to it, and therefore, my
Lord, moral culpability does not rest with her." Can you think what the
judge would say–such a man as the late good Lord Chancellor Campbell?
Why, I think I see him rise from his seat and exclaim, "Hold your
tongue, Sir, or else change your line of argument! For as long as I am
one of the judges of this realm I will never sit in this court to hear
God openly and publicly blasphemed. If you do not change your line of
argument the usher shall put you out."
And I am sure every Englishman in the court would applaud a judge for
so saying. Verily you would hold your breath and feel your blood
chilled in your veins at the very idea of murder being laid at the door
of God. What then shall I say of those men, calling themselves
ministers of Christ, but who become the devil's advocates, and preach
that the ruin of men's souls is the result of Divine Sovereignty, that
God's decree damns men, and not their own sins? O my Soul, come not
into their secret–with their confederacy be not joined! This is sewing
pillows to all armholes! This is, indeed, stuffing beds with down for
sinners to sleep on, till at last they wake up in damnation!
Sinner, you know it is a lie. It is a gross lie to say that God is
responsible for your damnation. If your soul shall perish, it shall
perish as a suicide. For you will have ruined yourself. "O Israel, you
have destroyed yourself." If the damned in Hell could be made to
believe that they did not deserve to be there, why Hell would be no
Hell to them. But this is the sting of perdition–"I deserve this!" You
will see written in lines of fire–"You knew your duty, but you did it
not!" And when you cry for mercy, this shall be God's answer–"I called
and you refused. I stretched out My hand and no man regarded it. I also
will laugh at your calamity. I will mock when your fear comes."
Do I hear someone say, "Why, that is Arminianism!" Precisely so. But
some people say the truth lies between Calvinism and Arminianism. It
does not. There is nothing between them but a barren wilderness. If you
are asked why a man is saved, the only Scriptural answer is–"Sovereign
Grace." Grace–unmoved by anything in the creature, flowing
spontaneously from the mighty depths of the Divine heart. But if you
are asked why are men damned? Answer this–"It is their own sin. Their
own wicked, carnal, sensual, devilish nature–that they even dare to
trample on the blood of Christ, to despise Jesus and to turn aside from
Him that speaks from Heaven."
Never be frightened because one man says it is too high, or because
another says it is too low. Take the Truth of God as you find it. Take
it as it is in the Bible. "Well but," I hear one say, "are the two
things consistent? Can you reconcile them?" I do want to reconcile
them. They never fell out. They are good friends. They are both true,
and truths never quarrel. "Well," says one, "but I cannot see that they
are quite straight." Have you ever been rowing in a boat on the water
and remarked that your oars look bent? Are they bent? No. If you had an
oar that was bent, and put it in a certain position it would look
straight. But if it were a straight oar that you put in, and now that
it should look bent is a mere optical illusion.
Why is this? Well, we are told it is because the rays of light pass
through two different mediums–through the air and through the waters.
These mediums are of different density, and therefore the ray of light
is refracted and the thing looks bent, though it really is not. Now
part of the truth is Divine–that part which has to do with Divine
Sovereignty. And part of the truth is human–that which has to do with
human responsibility. A great truth in passing through two such
different media must look bent, and if it did not look bent, it would
be strange, indeed. You may look at two lines. They are almost
parallel, but not quite, and they do not meet anywhere that you and I
can see, but they do meet somewhere that God can see.
When we get to Heaven we shall see where these two lines meet and we
shall find, perhaps, that where we thought they were the farthest
apart, was just the place where they touched each other. Of this,
however, I am absolutely sure, man's conscience bears witness–it is
one of the instinctive apprehensions of every enlightened man's
mind–that if he is saved, it is of God's mercy. And that if he is
lost, it is his own fault. I only want the witness of your own
conscience to this point. In vain you drug conscience with nauseous
doctrines. You may go and listen to something that is not pure Gospel,
but a spurious compound. You never can stifle the deep conviction, that
if you rebel against God you perish as the result of your own act and
deed. The worm that never dies would cease to gnaw at your vitals if
you could lay your ruin at God's door. And the fire that never can be
quenched would have no meet fuel in your body and soul, if your own
sins were not the cause of your own destruction.
And what does all this lead to? Why, it comes to this, dear Friends,
that I must close by dividing this house. Sometimes, in the House of
Commons, you know, when a person has been speaking and has been very
prosy, and another man gets up to speak whom they do not want to hear,
they will cry out, "Divide, divide." Then the House divides and the
"Ayes" go out on one side and the "nays" on another. Well–I have not a
convenient place here for some of you to go on one side of the house
and some another–I do not suppose we could carry it out. But suppose
this aisle now to represent the great division, and that the some that
believe had to stand on this side, and the some that do not believe on
that side.
There would soon be a change of seats, I expect. But do you know, I am
afraid there would be a great number of you that would say, "Well, I
cannot go on this side. I dare not say I do believe in Christ. And yet
I cannot go to the other side. I dare not go there, it is such an awful
thing to go with those that do not believe. Let me stand here in the
aisle." No, no. There are only two places–Heaven and Hell–and there
are only two sorts of people, the righteous and the wicked. The priests
of Christian idolatry have been preaching about purgatory for hundreds
of years, but we do not believe in that doctrine, except as a means of
filling their coffers while they make merchandize of souls.
We know that all the people that have died have either gone to Hell
because they did not believe, or have gone to Heaven because they did.
And we know that there has never been a cross between a Believer and an
unbeliever. A man must be either dead or alive. There is no neutral
ground. You must either be on one side with those who are alive, or on
the other side with those who are dead and need to be quickened. Think
not to halt between two opinions. For the most part those who are said
to be halting between two opinions are really of one opinion–they do
not intend to serve the Lord. They say in their hearts, "Who is the
Lord that I should serve Him?"
Now will you do me this favor? I asked it once and it was blessed to
the conversion of several. Will you take a little time alone, perhaps
this evening. Take a paper and pencil, and after you have honestly and
fairly thought on your own state and weighed your own condition before
the Lord, will you write down one of two words–if you feel that you
are not a Believer write down this word–"Condemned." But if you are a
Believer in Jesus and put your trust in Him, alone, write down the
word, "Forgiven." Do it, even though you have to write down the word,
"condemned." We lately received into Church fellowship a young man, who
said–"Sir, I wrote down the word, "condemned," and I looked at it.
There it was. I had written it myself–"Condemned."
As he looked, the tears began to flow, and the heart began to break.
And before long he fled to Christ, put the paper in the fire and wrote
down, "Forgiven." This young man was about the sixth who had been
brought to the Lord in the same way. So I pray you try it, and God may
bless it to you. Remember you are either one or the other–you are
either condemned or forgiven. Do not stand between the two. Let it be
decided, and remember, if you are condemned today, you are not yet in
Hell. There is hope still! Blessed be God, still is Christ lifted up
and whoever believes on Him shall not perish but have everlasting life.
The gate of Heaven is not closed. The proclamation of mercy is not
hushed. The Spirit of God still goes forth to open blind eyes and to
unstop deaf ears. It is still preached to you, to every creature under
Heaven–"Whosoever believes on the Son of God has everlasting life. He
that believes and is baptized shall be saved. He that be believes not
shall be damned." Believe! God help you to believe. Trust Jesus! Trust
Him now. And may the Lord grant that your name may be written among the
some that believe, and not among the some that believe not.