Onward!

A SERMON DELIVERED ON LORD'S-DAY MORNING, MAY 25, 1873,

BY C. H. SPURGEON,

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

"Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I
do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto
those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of
the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:13,14.

SO far as his acceptance with God is concerned, a Christian is complete
in Christ as soon as he believes. Those who have trusted themselves in
the hands of the Lord Jesus are saved–and they may enjoy holy
confidence upon the matter, for they have a Divine warrant for so
doing. "There is therefore now no condemnation to them that are in
Christ Jesus." To this salvation the Apostle had attained. But while
the work of Christ for us is perfect and it were presumption to think
of adding to it, the work of the Holy Spirit in us is not perfect–it
is continually carried on from day to day–and will need to be
continued throughout the whole of our lives.

We are being "conformed to the image of Christ," and that process is in
operation as we advance towards Glory. The condition in which a
Believer should always be found is that of progress. His motto must be,
"Onward and upward!" Nearly every figure by which Christians are
described in the Bible implies this. We are plants of the Lord's field,
but we are sown that we may grow–"First the blade, then the ear, then
the full corn in the ear." We are born into the family of God, but
there are babes, little children, young men, and fathers in Christ
Jesus. Yes, and there are none who are perfect or fully developed men
in Christ Jesus. It is always a growing process.

Is the Christian described as a pilgrim? He is no pilgrim who sits down
as if rooted to the place. "They go from strength to strength." The
Christian is compared to a warrior, a wrestler, a competitor in the
games–these figures are the very opposite of a condition in which
nothing more is to be done. They imply energy, the gathering up of
strength and the concentration of forces in order to the overthrowing
of adversaries. The Christian is also likened to a runner in a race and
that is the figure now before us in the text. It is clear that a man
cannot be a runner who merely holds his ground, content with his
position–he only runs aright who each moment nears the mark. Progress
is the healthy condition of every Christian and he only realizes his
best estate while he is growing in Divine Grace, "adding to his faith
virtue," "following on to know the Lord," and daily receiving Grace for
Grace out of the fullness which is treasured up in Christ Jesus.

Now, to this progress the Apostle exhorts us–no, he does more than
exhort–he allures us. He stands among us. He does not lecture us, "ex
cathedra," standing like a learned master far above his disciples, but
he puts himself on our level. And though not a whit behind the very
chief of the Apostles, he says, "Brethren, I count not myself to have
apprehended." He does not give us the details of his own imperfections
and deficiencies, but in one word he confesses them in the gross. And
then he declares that he burns with eager desire for perfection, so
that it is the one passion of his soul to press onward towards the
great goal of his hopes, the prize of his high calling in Christ Jesus.
We cannot desire to have a better instructor than a man who sympathizes
with us because he humbly considers himself to be of the same rank as
ourselves. Teaching us to run, the Apostle, himself, runs. Wishing to
fire our holy ambition, he bears testimony to that same ambition
flaming within his own spirit.

Paul's statements in the text call us to look at him under four
aspects–first, as forming a just estimate of his present
condition–"Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended."
Secondly, as placing his past in its proper position– "forgetting the
things which are behind." Thirdly, as aspiring eagerly to a more
glorious future–"reaching forth unto those things which are before."
And fourthly, as practically putting forth every exertion to obtain
that which he desired–"I press toward the mark for the prize of the
high calling of God in Christ Jesus."

I. First, admire our Apostle as PUTTING A JUST ESTIMATE UPON HIS
PRESENT CONDITION. He was not one of those who consider the state of
the Believer's heart to be a trifling matter. He was not indifferent as
to his spiritual condition. He says, "I count"–as if he had taken
stock, had made a careful estimate and had come to a conclusion. He is
not a wise man who says, "I am a Believer in Christ and therefore it
little matters what are my inward feelings and experience." He who so
speaks should remember that keeping the heart with all diligence is a
precept of Inspiration and that a careless walk usually comes to a very
sorrowful ending.

The Apostle took account. And when he had done so he was
dissatisfied–"I count not myself to have apprehended." Nor was that
dissatisfaction to be regretted. It was a sign of true Grace, a
conclusion which is always arrived at when saints judge themselves
rightly. Most weighty is that word of Chrysostom, "He who thinks he has
obtained everything, has nothing." Had Paul been satisfied with his
attainments he would never have sought for more. Most men cry, "hold,"
when they think they have done enough. The man who can honestly write,
"I press forward," you may be quite sure is one who feels that he has
not yet apprehended all that might be gained. Self-satisfaction rings
the death-knell of progress. There must be a deep-seated discontent
with present attainments, or there will never be a striving after the
things which are yet beyond.

Now, Beloved, mark that the man who in our text tells us that he had
not apprehended was a man vastly superior to any of us. Among them that
were born of women there has never lived a greater than Paul the
Apostle. In sufferings for Christ, a martyr of the first class. In
ministry for Christ an Apostle of foremost degree. Where shall I find
such a man for Revelations? He had been caught up into the third Heaven
and heard words which it was not lawful for him to utter! Where shall I
find his match for character? A character splendidly balanced, as
nearly approximating to that of his Divine Master as we well expect to
see in mortal men. Yet, after having duly considered the matter, this
notable saint said, "I count not myself to have apprehended."

Shame, then, on any of us poor dwarfs if we are so vain as to count
that we have apprehended! Shame upon the indecent self-conceit of any
man who congratulates himself upon his own spiritual condition when
Paul, himself, said, "Not as though I had already attained, either were
already perfect." The injury which self-content will do a man would be
hard to measure–it is the readiest way to stunt him and the surest
method to keep him weak. I should be sorry, indeed, if I should be
addressing one who imagines that he has apprehended, for his progress
in Divine Grace is barred from this time forth! The moment a man says,
"I have it," he will no longer try to obtain it. The moment he cries,
"It is enough," he will not labor after more.

Yet, Brothers and Sisters, far too often, of late, have I come across
the path of those who speak as if they have apprehended–Brethren whose
own lips praise themselves, who sing upon their own fullness of Grace
with an unction rather too exaggerated for my taste. I am not about to
condemn them. I cannot say I am not about to censure them, for I intend
to do so, from a deep sense of the necessity that they should be
censured. These friends assure us that they have reached great heights
of Grace and are now in splendid spiritual condition. I should be very
glad to know that it is so if it were true. But I am grieved to hear
them act as witnesses for themselves, for then I know that their
witness is not true. If it were so, they would be the last men to
publish it abroad.

There are Brethren abroad whose eminent graciousness is not very clear
to others, but it is very evident to themselves–and equally as vivid
is their apprehension of the great inferiority of most of their
Brethren. They talk to us, not as men of like passions with ourselves
and Brethren of the same stock, but as demigods, thundering out of the
clouds–giants discoursing to the little men around them! If it is true
that they are so superior, I rejoice! Yes, and will rejoice. But my
suspicion is that their glorying is not good and that the spirit which
they manifest will prove a snare to them. I meet, I say, sometimes with
Brothers and Sisters who feel content with their spiritual condition.
They do not ascribe their satisfactory character to themselves, but to
the Grace of God. But for all that, they feel that they are what they
ought to be and what others ought to be but are not.

They see in themselves a great deal that is good, very much that is
commendable and a large amount of excellence which they can hold up for
the admiration of others. They have reached the "higher life" and are
wonderfully fond of telling us so–and explaining the phenomena of
their self-satisfied condition. Though Paul was compelled to say, "In
me, that is, in my flesh, there dwells no good thing," their flesh
appears to be of a better quality. Whereas he had

spiritual conflicts and found that without were fights and within
fears, these very superior persons have already trod Satan under their
feet and reached a state in which they have little else to do but to
divide the spoil.

Now, Brothers and Sisters, whenever we meet with persons who can
congratulate themselves upon their personal character, or whenever we
get into the state of self-content ourselves, there is an ill savor
about the whole concern. I do not know what impression it makes upon
you, but whenever I hear a Brother talk about himself, and how full he
is of the Spirit of God and all that, I am distressed for him. I think
I hear the voice of that stately professor, who said, "God, I thank you
that I am not as other men are." I feel that I would prefer to listen
to that other man, who said, "God be merciful to me a sinner," and went
down to his house justified rather than the other.

When I hear a man crow about himself, I think of Peter's
declaration–"Though all men should deny You, yet will not I," and I
hear another cock crow. Self-complacency is the mother of spiritual
declension. David said, "My mountain stands firm: I shall never be
moved." But before long the face of God was hidden and he was troubled.
In the presence of a professor who is pleased with his own attainments,
one remembers that warning text–"Let him that thinks he stands, take
heed lest he fall." Great I! Great I! Wherever you are, you must come
down! Great I is always opposed to great Christ. John the Baptist knew
the Truth when he said, "He must increase, but I must decrease." There
is no room in this world for God's Glory and man's glory. He who is
less than nothing magnifies God, but he "who is rich, and increased in
goods, and has need of nothing," dishonors God. And he "is naked and
poor and miserable."

Furthermore, we have observed that the best of men do not talk of their
attainments. Their tone is self-depreciation, not self-content. We have
known some eminently holy men, who are now in Heaven, and in looking
back upon their lives we note that they were never conscious of being
what we all thought them to be. Everybody could see their beauty of
character except themselves. They lamented their imperfections while we
admired the Grace of God in them. I remember a minister of Christ, now
with God–I will not mention his name–if I did, it would be as
familiar to your ears as household words. It was proposed by some of
us, when he left the ministry in his old age, that we should hold a
meeting to bid him farewell and testify our esteem for him.

It was my duty to propose the fraternal act, but I hesitated as I saw
the blush mantle his cheek and I paused when he rose and besought us
never to think of such a thing, for he felt himself to be one of the
most unworthy of all the servants of the Lord. Every man of the
associated ministers, that day assembled, felt that our venerable
friend was by far the superior of us all–and yet his own estimate of
himself was lowest of the lowly. He had sacrificed much, but I never
heard him speak of his sacrifices. He lived in habitual fellowship with
God, but I never heard him declare it, much less glory in it. Shallow
streams brawl and babble, but deep waters flow on in silence! Of all
the departed saints whom it has been my lot to esteem highly in love
for their works' sake, I do not remember one who dared to praise
himself, though I can remember several poor little spiritual babes who
did so to their own injury.

If ever true saints speak of what God has done by them, they do it in
such a modest way that you might think they were talking of someone 500
miles away, rather than of themselves. They have scrupulously laid all
their crowns at the Savior's feet, not in word only, but in spirit.
When I remember these sacred names of the great departed, I feel it
hard to have patience with the unspiritual, unholy boastings of
personal holiness and high spirituality which are getting common in
these days. Drums make much noise, but we know by observation that it
is not their fullness which makes the sound.

Again, we have noticed that we, ourselves, in our own holiest moments,
do not feel self-complacent. Whenever we get near to God and really
enter into fellowship with Him, the sensations we feel are the very
reverse of self-congratulation. Job, in this, was the type of every
believing man. Till he saw God he spoke up for his innocence and
defended himself against the charges of his friends. But when the Lord
revealed Himself to him, he said, "My eyes see You, therefore I abhor
myself and repent in dust and ashes." We never see the beauty of Christ
without, at the same time, perceiving our own deformity. When we
neglect prayer and self-examination we grow into mighty vain fellows,
but when we live near to God in private devotion and heart-searching,
we put off our ornaments from us. In the light of God's Countenance we
perceive our many flaws and imperfections, and instead of saying, "I am
clean," we cry out, "Woe is me, for I am a man of unclean lips!"

Now if this is our own experience, we infer from it that those who
think well of themselves must know little of that revealing light which
humbles all who dwell in it. My observation of personal character has
been somewhat wide and I

cannot help bearing my testimony that I am greatly afraid of men who
make loud professions of superior sanctity. I have had the misfortune
to have known, on one or two occasions, superfine Brethren, who were,
in their own ideas, far above the rest of us and almost free from human
frailties. I confess to have felt very much humbled by their eminent
goodness until I found them out. They talked of complete
sanctification, of a faith which never staggered, of an old nature
entirely dead until I wondered at them. But I wondered more when I
found that all the while they were rotten at the core, were negligent
of common duties while boasting of the loftiest spirituality and were
even immoral while they condemned others for comparative trifles.

I have now become very suspicious of all who cry up their own wares. I
had rather have a humble, timid, fearful, watchful, self-depreciating
Christian to be my companion than any of the religious exquisites who
crave our admiration. These great-winged eagles who fly so loftily
will, I fear, turn out to be unclean birds. The excessive verdure of a
super finely flourishing religiousness often covers a horrible bog of
hypocrisy. Let me add, once more, that whatever shape self-satisfaction
may assume–and it bears a great many–it is at bottom nothing but a
shirking of the hardship of Christian soldierhood. The Christian
soldier has to fight with sins every day and if he is a man of God and
God's Spirit is in him, he will find he needs all the strength he has,
and a great deal more, to maintain his ground and make progress in the
Divine

life.

Now, self-contentment is a shirking of the battle, I do not care how it
is come by. Some people shirk watchfulness, repentance and holy care by
believing that the only sanctification they need is already theirs by
imputation. They use the work of the Lord Jesus for them as though it
could thrust away the necessity of the Spirit's work in them. Personal
holiness they will not hear of–it is legal. If they come across such a
text as, "Without holiness no man shall see the Lord," or, "Be not
deceived, God is not mocked, whatever a man sows that shall he also
reap," they straightway force another meaning upon it, or else forget
it altogether.

Another class believe that they have perfection in the flesh, while a
third attain to the same complacent condition by the notion that they
have overcome all their sins by believing that they have done so–as if
believing your battles to be won was the same thing as winning them!
This, which they call faith, I take the liberty to call a lazy,
self-conceited presumption. And though they persuade themselves that
their sins are dead, it is certain that their carnal security is
vigorous enough and highly probable that the rest of their sins are
only keeping out of the way to let their pride have room to develop
itself to ruinous proportions. You can reach self-complacency by a
great many roads. I have known enthusiasts reach it by sheer
intoxication of excitement, while Antinomians come at it by imagining
that the Law is abolished and that what is sin in others is not sin in
saints.

There are theories which afford an evil peace to the mind by throwing
all blame of sin upon fate. And others which lower the standard of
God's demands so as to make them reachable by fallen humanity. Some
dream that a mere dead faith in Jesus will save them, let them live as
they like. And others that they are already as good as need be. Many
have fallen into the same condition by another error, for they have
said, "Well, we cannot conquer all sin and therefore we need not aim at
it. Some of our sins are constitutional and will never be gotten rid
of." Under these evil impressions they sit down and say, "It is well, O
Soul, you are in an excellent condition. Sit still and take your ease,
there is little more to be done, there is no need to attempt more."

All this is evil to the last degree. I have used few theological terms,
because it does not matter how we get to be self-satisfied, whether by
an orthodox or a heterodox mode of reasoning–it is a mischievous thing
in any case. The fact is, my Brothers and Sisters, the Lord calls us to
this high calling of contending with sin within and without until we
die! It is of no use of our mincing the matter–we must fight if we
would reign–our sins will have to be contended till our dying day and
probably we shall have to fight upon our death-bed. Therefore, every
day we are bound to be upon our watchtower against sin around and
within us. It is of no use our deluding ourselves with pretty theories
which act only as spiritual opium to cause unhealthy dreams.

Sin is a real thing with each one of us and must be daily wrestled
with–there is an evil heart of unbelief within us and the devil
without us–and we must watch, and pray, and cry mightily, and strive,
and struggle, and admit that we have not yet apprehended. If we dream
that we are at the goal already, we shall stop short of the prize. The
full soul loathes the honeycomb. A man full of self cares for nothing
more. Shake off these slothful bands, my Brethren! Be strong. You are
as weak as others and as likely to sin. Watch, therefore, and pray lest
you enter into temptation.

What is it, at bottom, that makes men content with themselves? It may
be, first of all, a forgetfulness of the awful holiness of the Law of
God. If the Law of the Ten Commandments is to be read only as its
letter runs, I could imagine a man's judging himself and saying, "I
have apprehended." But when we know that the Law is spiritual, how can
we be self-complacent? My dear Brothers and Sisters, if you think you
have reached its perfect height, I ask you to hear these words–"You
shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul,
with all your mind, and with all your strength, and your neighbor as
yourself."

Can you say, in the sight of a heart-searching God, "I have fulfilled
all that"? If you can, I am staggered at you and think you the victim
of a strong delusion which leads you to believe a lie! Brethren who can
take delight in themselves must have lost sight of the heinousness of
sin. The least sin is a desperate evil–an assault upon the Throne of
God–an insult to the majesty of Heaven. The simple act of plucking the
forbidden fruit cost us Paradise. There is a bottomless pit of sin in
every transgression, a Hell in every iniquity. If we keep clear of sins
of action and if our tongue is so bridled that we avoid every hasty and
unadvised speech, yet do we not know that our thoughts and
imaginations, our looks and longing of heart, have in them an infinity
of evil?

If, after having learned that sin can only be washed out by the death
of the Son of God, and that even the flames of Hell cannot make
atonement for a single sin, a man can then say, "I am content with
myself," it is to be feared that he has made a fatal mistake as to his
own character. Is there not a failure, in such cases, to understand the
highest standard of Christian living? If we measure ourselves among
ourselves, there are many Believers here who might be pretty well
satisfied. You are as generous as other Christians are, considering
your income. You are as prayerful as most other professors and as
earnest in doing good as any of your neighbors. If you are worldly, yet
you are not more worldly than most professors, nowadays, and so you
judge yourself not to be far below the standard. But what a standard!
Let us seek a better!

Brothers, it is a very healthy thing for us who are ministers to read a
biography like that of M'Cheyne. Read that through, if you are a
minister, and it will burst many of your windbags. You will find
yourselves collapse most terribly. Take the life of Brainerd among the
Indians, or of Baxter in our own land. Think of the holiness of George
Herbert, the devoutness of Fletcher, or the zeal of Whitfield. Where do
you find yourself after reading their lives? Might you not peep about
to find a hiding place for your insignificance? When we mix with dwarfs
we think ourselves giants. But in the presence of giants we become
dwarfs. When we think of the saints departed and remember their
patience in suffering, their diligence in labor, their ardor, their
self-denial, their humility, their tears, their prayers, their midnight
cries, their intercession for the souls of others, their pouring out
their hearts before God for the glory of Christ–why, we shrink into
less than nothing and find no word of boasting on our tongue!

If we survey the life of the only perfect One, our dear Lord and
Master, the sight of His beauty covers our whole countenance with a
blush. He is the lily and we are the thorns. He is the sun and we are
as the night. He is all good and we are all evil. In His Presence we
bow in the dust, we confess our sins and count ourselves unworthy to
unloose His shoe laces. It is to be feared that there is springing up
in some parts of the Christian Church a deceitful form of
self-righteousness which leads even good people to think too highly of
themselves. It is a fashionable form of fanaticism, very pleasing to
the flesh, very fascinating and very deadly. Many, I fear, are not
really living so near to God as they think they are–neither are they
as holy as they dream.

It is very easy to frequent Bible readings, conferences and excited
public meetings, and to fill one's self with the gas of self-esteem. A
little pious talk with a sort of Christian who always walks on high
stilts will soon tempt you to use the stilts yourself. But indeed, dear
Brothers and Sisters, you are a poor, unworthy worm and a nobody–and
if you get one inch above the ground you get just that inch too high.
Remember, you may think yourself to be very strong in a certain
direction because you do not happen to be tried on that point. Many of
us are exceedingly good-tempered when nobody provokes us. Some are
wonderfully patient because they have a sound constitution and have no
racking pains to endure. And others are exceedingly generous because
they have more money than they need.

A ship's seaworthiness is never quite certain till she has been out at
sea. The grand thing will be to be sound before the living God in the
day of trial. I pray every Believer here to get off his high horse and
to remember that he is, "naked and poor and miserable" apart from
Christ–and only in Jesus Christ is he anything at all! And if he
thinks himself to be something when he is nothing, he deceives himself,
but does not deceive God.

II. In the second place, look at Paul as PLACING THE PAST IN ITS TRUE
LIGHT. He says, "Forgetting those

things which are behind." What does he mean? Paul does not mean that he
forgot the mercy of God which he had enjoyed. Far from it! Paul does
not mean that he forgot the sins which he had committed. Far from
it–he would always remember them to humble him. We must follow out the
figure which he is using and so read him.

When a man ran in the Grecian games, if he had run half way and passed
most of his fellows, and had then turned to look round and to rejoice
over the distance which he had already covered, he would have lost the
race. Suppose he had commenced singing his own praises and said, "I
have come down the hill, along the valley, and up the rising ground on
this side. See, there are one, two, three, four, five, six runners far
behind me." While thus praising himself he would lose the race. The
only hope for the runner was to forget all that was behind and occupy
his entire thoughts with the piece of ground which lay in front! Never
mind though you have run so far–you must let the space which lies
between you and the goal engross all your thoughts and command all your
powers.

It must be so with regard to all the sins which we have overcome.
Perhaps at this moment you might honestly say, "I have overcome a very
fierce temper," or, "I have bestirred my naturally indolent spirit."
Thank God for that! Stop long enough to say, "Thank God for that," but
do not pause to congratulate yourselves as though some great thing had
been done, for then it may soon be undone. Perhaps the very moment you
are rejoicing over your conquered temper it will leap back upon you
like a lion from the covert, and you will say, "I thought you were dead
and buried, and here you are roaring at me again." The very easiest way
to give resurrection to old corruptions is to erect a trophy over their
graves–they will at once lift up their heads and howl out, "We are
still alive!"

It is a great thing to overcome any sinful habit, but it is necessary
to guard against it, still, for you have not conquered it so long as
you congratulate yourself upon the conquest. In the same light we must
regard all the Grace we have obtained. I know some dear friends who are
mighty in prayer and my soul rejoices to join in their supplications.
But I should be sorry, indeed, to hear them praise their own prayers.
We love yonder Brother for his generosity, but we hope he will never
tell others that he is liberal. Yonder dear friend is very humble, but
if he were to boast of it, that would be the end of it. Self-esteem is
a moth which eats the garments of virtue. Those flies, those pretty
flies of self-praise, must be killed, for if they get into your pot of
ointment they will spoil it all.

Forget the past! Thank God who has made you pray so well. Thank God who
has made you kind, gentle, or humble. Thank God who has made you give
liberally. But forget it all and go forward since there is yet very
much land to be possessed! And so with all the work for Jesus which we
have done. Some people seem to have very good memories as to what they
have performed. They used to serve God wonderfully when they were
young! They began early and were full of zeal! They can tell you all
about it with much pleasure. In middle life they worked marvels and
achieved great wonders. But now they rest on their oars. They are
giving other people an opportunity to distinguish themselves! Their own
heroic age is over.

Dear Brothers and Sisters, as long as ever you are in this world forget
what you have already done and go forward to other service! Living on
the past is one of the faults of old Churches. We, for instance, as a
Church, may begin to congratulate ourselves upon the great things God
has done by us, for we shall be sure to put it in that pretty shape,
although we shall probably mean the great things we have done
ourselves. After praising ourselves thus, we shall gain no further
blessing, but shall decline by little and little. The same is true of
denominations. What acclamations are heard when allusion is made to
what our fathers did! Oh, the name of Carey, Knibb, and Fuller! We
Baptists think we have nothing to do now but to go upstairs and go to
bed, for we have achieved eternal glory through the names of these good
men! And as for our Wesleyan friends, how apt they are to harp upon
Wesley, Fletcher, Nelson and other great men!

Thank God for them! They were grand men! But the right thing is to
forget the past and pray for another set of men to carry on the work.
We should never be content, but, "On, on, on," should be our cry! When
they asked Napoleon why he continually made wars, he said, "I am the
child of war. Conquest has made me what I am and conquest must maintain
me." The Christian Church is the child of spiritual war. She only lives
as she fights and rides forth conquering and to conquer. God deliver us
from the self-congratulatory spirit, however it may come, and make us
long and pine after something better!

III. And now the third point. Paul, having put the present and past
into their right places, goes on to the future,

ASPIRING EAGERLY TO MAKE IT GLORIOUS, for he says, "reaching forth unto
those things which are before."

Does he not here give us the picture of a runner? He reaches forth. The
man, as he runs, throws himself forward, almost out of the
perpendicular. His eyes are already at the goal. His hands are far in
advance of his feet. His whole body is leaning forward–he runs as
though he would project himself to the end of the journey before his
legs can carry him there. That is how the Christian should be–always
throwing himself forward after something more than he has yet
reached–not satisfied with the rate at which he advances. His soul
always going at 20 times the pace of the flesh.

John Bunyan gives us a little parable of the man on horseback. He is
bid by his master to ride in a hurry to fetch the physician. But the
horse is a sorry jade. "Well," says Bunyan, "if his master sees that
the man on the horse's back is whipping and spurring, and pulling the
bridle and struggling with all his might, he judges that the man would
go if he could." That is how the Christian should always be, not only
as devout, earnest and useful as he can be, but panting to be a great
deal more so–spurring this old flesh and striving against this laggard
spirit–if perhaps he can do more. Brothers and Sisters, we ought to be
reaching forward to be like Jesus! Never may we say, "I am like
So-and-So, and that is enough." Am I like Jesus? Perfectly like Jesus?
If not–away, away, away from everything I am or have been! I cannot
rest until I am like my Lord.

The aim of the Christian is to be perfect–if he seeks to be anything
less than perfect, he aims at an object lower than that which God has
placed before him. To master every sin and to have and possess and
exhibit every virtue–this is the Christian's ambition. He who would be
a great artist must not follow low models. The artist must have a
perfect model to copy–if he does not reach to it, he will reach far
further than if he had an inferior model to work by. When a man once
realizes his own ideal, it is all over with him. A great painter once
had finished a picture and he said to his wife with tears in his eyes,
"It is all over with me. I shall never paint again, I am a ruined man."
She enquired, "Why?" "Because," he said, "that painting contents and
satisfies me. It realizes my idea of what painting ought to be and
therefore I am sure my power is gone, for that power lies in having
ideals which I cannot reach, something yet beyond me which I am
striving

after."

May none of us ever say, "I have reached my ideal, now I am what I
ought to be, there is nothing beyond me." Perfection, Brothers and
Sisters, absolute perfection–may God help us to strive after it! That
is the model, "Be you perfect, even as your Father which is in Heaven
is perfect." "Shall we ever reach it?" asks one. Thousands and millions
have reached it–there they are before the Throne of God–their robes
are washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb! And we shall
possess the same, only let us be struggling after it by God's good
help. Let every Believer be striving that in the details of common
life, in every thought, in every word, in every action, he may glorify
God. This ought to be our objective–if we do not reach it, it is that
which we must press for–that from morning light to evening shade we
shall live unto God. Whether we eat or drink, or whatever we do, we
should do all in the name of the Lord Jesus.

This is what we are to seek after, praying always in the Holy Spirit to
be sanctified wholly, spirit, soul and body. "It is a wonderfully high
standard," says one. Would you like me to lower it, Brother? I should
be very sorry to have it lowered for myself. If the highest degree of
holiness were denied to any one of us, it would be a heavy calamity. Is
it not the joy of a Christian to be perfectly like his Lord? Who would
wish to stop short of it? To be obliged to live under the power of even
the least sin forever would be a horrible thing! No, we never can be
content short of perfection! We will reach forward towards that which
is before.

IV. And now the Apostle is our model, in the fourth place, because he
PUTS FORTH ALL HIS EXERTIONS TO REACH THAT WHICH HE DESIRES. He says,
"This one thing I do," as if he had given up all else and addicted
himself to one sole object–to aim to be like Jesus Christ! There were
many other things Paul might have attempted, but he says, "this one
thing I do." Probably Paul was a poor speaker–why did he not try to
make himself a rhetorician? No. He came not with excellency of speech.
But you tell me Paul was busy with his tent making. I know he was–what
with tent-making, preaching, visiting and watching night and day, he
had more than enough to do! But all these were a part of his pursuit of
the one thing–he was laboring to serve his Master perfectly and to
render himself up as a whole burnt offering unto God.

I invite every soul that has been saved by the precious blood of Christ
to gather up all its strength for this one thing–to cultivate a
passion for Divine Grace and an intense longing after holiness. Ah, if
we could but serve God as God should be served, and be such manner of
people as we ought to be in all holy conversation and godliness, we
should see a new era in the Church. The greatest need of the Church at
this day is holiness. Why did Paul pursue holiness with

such concentrated purpose? Because he felt God had called him to it. He
aimed at the prize of his high calling. God had elected Paul to be a
champion against sin. Selected to be Jehovah's champion, he felt that
he must play the man.

Moreover, it was "God in Christ Jesus" who was the choice, and as the
Apostle looked up and saw the mild face of the Redeemer and marked the
crown of thorns of the King of Sorrows, he felt he must overcome sin.
He could not let a single evil live within him and, though he had not
yet apprehended, he felt he must press forward till he had apprehended
that to which God in Christ had called him. Moreover, the Apostle saw
his crown, the crown of life that fades not away, hanging bright before
his eyes. "What," said he, "shall tempt me from that path of which yon
crown is the end? Let the golden apples be thrown in my way, I cannot
even look at them, nor stay to spurn them with my feet. Let the sirens
sing on either side and seek to charm me with their evil beauty to
leave the holy road, but I must not, and I will not. Heaven! Heaven!
Heaven! Is not this enough to make a man dash forward in the road
there? The end is glorious, what if the running is laborious? When
there is such a prize to be had, who will grudge a struggle?"

Paul pressed forward towards the mark for the prize of his high calling
in Christ Jesus. He felt he was a saved man and he meant, through the
same Grace, to be a holy man. He longed to grasp the crown and hear
the, "Well done, good and faithful servant," which his Master would
award him at the end of his course. Brothers and Sisters, I wish I
could stir myself and stir you to a passionate longing after a
gracious, consistent, godly life! Yes, for an eminently, solidly,
thoroughly devoted and consecrated life. You will grieve the Spirit if
you walk inconsistently. You will dishonor the Lord that bought you.
You will weaken the Church. You will bring shame upon yourself. Even
though you are "saved so as by fire," it will be an evil and a bitter
thing to have in any measure departed from God. But to be always going
onward, to be never self-satisfied, to be always laboring to be better
Christians, to be aiming at the rarest sanctity–this shall be your
honor, the Church's comfort and the glory of God!

May the Lord help you to perfect holiness in the fear of God. Amen.

PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON–Philippians 3.
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The Good Shepherdess