DELIVERED ON LORD'S-DAY MORNING, MAY 2, 1880,
BY C. H. SPURGEON,
AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.
"But we had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not
trust in ourselves, but in God which raises the dead." 2 Corinthians
1:9.
WE are justified, dear Friends, in speaking about our own experience
when the mention of it will be for the benefit of others. Especially is
this the case with leaders in the Church such as Paul, for their
experience is rich and deep and the rehearsal of it comes with great
weight and is peculiarly valuable. We are all the better when we are
distressed for discovering that such an one as Paul was also subject to
heaviness–we feel safe in following the line of conduct which was
marked out by the great Apostle and we are hopeful that if he came out
of his troubles which were so great, we may, also, be delivered out of
ours which are comparatively so little.
These footprints on the sand of time help us to take heart. By tracing
the footsteps of the flock, we are helped to return to the fold and to
the Shepherd. It would have been a great calamity if such men as David
and Paul had, through a fear of seeming egotistical, withheld from us a
sight of their inner selves. God has been pleased to fill a large part
of the Bible with biographies and histories of human actions in order
that we who are men, ourselves, may learn from them. Where a biography
concerns mainly the inner rather than the outer life, as in the Psalms
and in Paul's Epistles, we are all the more strengthened, instructed,
directed and comforted, for it is in the inner life that we are most
perplexed and most in danger of going astray.
God grant us Grace to make good use of the treasure of experience which
is stored up for us in His Word! How rich, how varied, how admirably
selected! If one man can learn by the life of another, surely we ought
to learn from such memorable lives as those immortalized in the
Scriptures. Especially may we see ourselves as in a mirror while we
steadily look into the heart of Paul. As to our own experience of trial
and of delivering mercy, it is sent for our good and we should endeavor
to profit to the utmost by it. But it was never intended that it should
end with our private and personal benefit. In the kingdom of God no man
lives unto himself. We are bound to comfort others by the comfort which
the Lord has comforted us. We are under solemn obligation to seek out
mourners and such as are in tried circumstances, that we may
communicate to them the cheering testimony which we are personally able
to bear to the love and faithfulness of
God.
Our Lord has handed out to us spiritual riches ofjoy that we may
communicate to others who are in need of consolation through great
tribulation. You may think that you are not called upon to preach and
possibly you may neither have the ability nor the opportunity for such
public witness bearing, but your experience is a treasure of which you
are the trustee and you are bound by the law of gratitude to make use
of all you know, all you have felt, all you have learned by personal
experience for the comforting and the building up of your Brothers and
Sisters in Christ. To be reticent is sometimes to be treacherous–you
may be found unfaithful to your charge unless you endeavor to improve
for the general good the dealings of the Lord with your soul. I would
exhort every Christian to reflect the light which falls upon him.
Brother, echo your Master's voice faithfully and clearly! What the Lord
has whispered to you in your ear in closets, proclaim according to your
ability upon the housetops! If you have found honey, eat of it, yet eat
not the feast alone, but call in others who can appreciate its
sweetness that they may rejoice with you! If you have discovered a
well, drink and quench your thirst, but hasten forthwith to call the
whole caravan, that every traveler may also drink! If you have been
sick and you have been healed, tell the glad news to all sick folk
around you and let them know where they, too, may find a cure.
Perhaps your telling of the news may have more weight with men than all
our preaching–they know you and have seen the change which Grace has
worked in you and you will, by your own experience, give them proof and
evidence
which they cannot deny. May the Holy Spirit help you in this thing. Let
this stand for the preface to our sermon and let us learn, once and for
all, that, as Paul used his experience for the comfort and edification
of the Churches, so is every Believer called upon to use their
experience for the benefit of his fellow Christians. The particular
experience of which Paul speaks was a certain trial, or probably series
of trials, which he endured in Asia. You know how he was stoned at
Lystra and how he was followed by his malicious countrymen from town to
town wherever he went, that they might excite the mob against him.
You recollect the uproar at Ephesus and the constant danger to which
Paul was exposed from perils of all kinds, but it must not be forgotten
that he appears to have been suffering, at the same time, grievous
sickness of body and that the multiple, together, caused very deep
depression of mind. His tribulations abounded–outside were fights and
within were fears. I call to your notice the strong expressions which
he uses in the 8th verse–"We were pressed"–he says. The word is such
as you would use if you were speaking of a cart loaded with sheaves
till it could not bear up under the weight–it is overloaded and
threatens to break down and fall by the way. Or the word might be used
if you spoke of a man who was weighted with too great a burden, under
which he was ready to fall. Or, perhaps, better still, if you were
speaking of a ship which had taken too much cargo and sank nearly to
the water's edge, looking as if it must sink altogether through
excessive pressure.
Paul says that this was his condition of mind when he was in Asia–"We
were pressed." To strengthen the language he adds, "out of measure." He
was pressed out of measure. He could convey no idea of the degree of
pressure put upon him–it seemed to be beyond the measure of his
strength. All trials, we are taught in Scripture, are sent to us in
measure and so were Paul's, but for the time being he, himself, could
see no limit to them and he seemed to be quite crushed. Paul could not
tell how much he was tried. He could not calculate the pressure–it was
more severe than he could estimate! So great, so heavy was the burden
upon his mind, that he gave up calculating its weight.
Then he adds another word, "above strength," because a man may be
pressed out of measure and yet he may have such remarkable strength
that he may bear up under it all. The posts and bars and gates of Gaza
must have pressed Samson and they must have pressed him out of measure,
but still, not beyond his strength because gigantic force was given to
those mighty limbs of his so that he readily carried what would have
crushed another man! Paul says that the pressure put upon him was
beyond his strength, He was quite unable to cope with it and his
spirits so failed him that he adds, "insomuch that we despaired even of
life."
He gave himself up for a dead man, for no way of escape was visible to
him. Into whatever town he entered, he was followed by the Jews. The
fickle mob soon turned against him–even the converts were not always
faithful. He had been stoned and beaten with rods and men had sworn to
take his life. Perils of robbers beset him in lonely places while
tumult and assault befell him in the cities. Meanwhile, the thorn in
his flesh worried him, afflictions and cares of all kinds weighed upon
him and altogether his mind was bowed down under the pressure which had
come upon him. What a deep bass there is in this note, "We were pressed
out of measure, above strength, insomuch that we despaired even of
life"! May we be spared so grievous a condition, or if that cannot be,
may we be profited by it.
We shall, in the sermon of this morning, as the Holy Spirit, the
Comforter, may help us, endeavor to show the reason for such affliction
and the good effect of it. First, I shall direct your attention to the
disease mentioned in the text as one to be prevented by the sentence of
death–"that we should not trust in ourselves." Secondly, we shall
dwell, for a little, upon the treatment, "we had the sentence of death
in ourselves." And thirdly, we will observe the cure–"we should not
trust in ourselves, but in God which raises the dead."
I. The first point is THE DISEASE–the tendency to trust in ourselves.
And we remark upon it, first, that this is a disease to which all men
are liable, for even Paul was in danger of it. I do not say that Paul
did trust in himself, but that he might have done so and would have
done so, if it had not been for the Lord's prudent dealings with him
both in the matter of this great trial in Asia and in the incident of
the thorn in the flesh. Where a sharp preventive is used, it is clear
that a strong liability exists. My Brothers and Sisters, I should have
thought that Paul was the last man to be in danger of trusting in
himself!
He was so amazingly converted, so remarkably clear in his views of the
Gospel! Indeed, he was so thorough in his faith, so intense in his
zeal, so eminent in his humility that all could see that his reliance
was upon Grace alone. No writer that ever lived has set in so clear a
light the fact that all things are of God and that we must walk by
faith and depend
alone upon God if we would find salvation and eternal life! And yet you
see, my Brethren, it was possible that the great teacher of Grace could
have trusted in himself! He was a man in whose life we see no sort of
self-confidence. I cannot recall anything that he did or said which
looks like vanity or pride. He exhibits deep humility of spirit and
great faith in God and he evidently had no confidence in himself–such
confidence he was always disclaiming. He looked upon his own works and
his own righteousness as dross and dung that he may win Christ. And
when he does speak of himself, it is generally with special
self-denials–"I, yet not I, but the Grace of God which was with me."
"By the Grace of God," says he, "I am what I am."
It is plain, then, that no clearness of knowledge, no purity of intent
and no depth of experience can altogether kill in our corrupt nature
the propensity to self-reliance. We are so foolish that we readily
yield to the witchery which would cause us to trust in ourselves. This
wide-spread folly has no respect for knowledge, age, or experience, but
even feeds upon them! I have heard men say several times and I have
been ashamed as I have heard the boast–"I am sure there is no
likelihood that I should ever trust in myself. I know better." Brother,
you are trusting in yourself when you say that– the subtle poison is
in your veins even now! You do not know what folly you can commit. You
are such a fool that even while you say, "I know my folly," you are
probably even, then, betraying your self-conceit.
What do we know? We know not of what spirit we are. We are capable of
almost everything that the devil is capable of. Yes, and if the Grace
of God should leave us, though we had been exalted to stand like Paul
and say, "I am not a whit behind the very chief of the Apostles," yet
should we fall, like Lucifer, and perish with pride! The silliest of
the vices may overcome the wisest of saints! Trust in self is one of
the most foolish of sins, though the commonness of it hides its
contemptible character. When we say, "I am surprised that I should have
acted so unwisely," we betray our secret pride and confess that we
thought ourselves wonderfully wise.
If, my Brothers and Sisters, you knew yourself, you would not be
surprised at anything that you might do. If you had a proper estimate
of yourself, it would rather cause you surprise that you were ever
right than that you were sadly wrong, for such is the natural weakness,
folly and vanity of our deceitful hearts that when we err, even in the
most foolish way, it may be said of us that we are only acting out our
own selves and we would do the same again, if not worse, were we left
by the Spirit of God.
Notice, secondly, that trusting in self is evil in all men, since it
was evil in an Apostle. Paul speaks of it as a fault which God, in
mercy, prevented, "that we should not trust in ourselves." Why,
Beloved, if you or I were to trust in ourselves, we should be fit
objects for ridicule and derision, for what is there in us that we can
trust? But as for Paul, in labors more abundant, in stripes above
measure, laying himself out for the Church of God with heroic zeal and
wearing himself out with self-denials–at first sight it seems that
there was something in him whereof he might glory! He walked with God
and was like his Master and Lord.
He was an humble but admirable imitation of the Lord Jesus and the mind
that was in Christ was also in him! He was a noble man–we cannot find
another man like he! He was one of the most beautiful, well-balanced,
forceful and influential of human characters and yet it would have been
a most injurious thing for him to have trusted in himself in any
degree. He was singularly judicious, far-seeing and prudent–and yet he
might not rely on himself. If this is so–if his Revelations from God;
if his deep experience; if his intense consecration; if his remarkable
wisdom; if his splendid education; if his logical mind and fervent
spirit–if all these combined could not warrant his trusting in
himself, what folly would be ours if we became self-sufficient?
If a lion's strength is insufficient, what can the dogs do? If the oak
trembles, how can the brambles boast? If such poor things as we are
dare to be self-confident, we deserve to smart for it! May God keep us
from this evil in all its disguises, whether it beguiles us in the form
of boasting of our own righteousness, or flatters us into reliance upon
our own judgment! In any shape it is a sin against God and a mischief
to ourselves! May the God of all Grace destroy it, root and branch.
We see, dear Friends, in the next place, that it must be highly
injurious to trust in ourselves, since God Himself interposed to
prevent His dear servant from falling into it. The Lord warded off the
evil by sending Paul a great trouble when he was in Asia–thus does our
all-wise and almighty God arrange Providence to prevent His servants
from falling into self-trust. Depend upon it, He is doing the same for
us since we have even a greater need–He is arranging all our ways and
steps that we may not wander into self-conceit. Perhaps our heavenly
Father is, at this present time, afflicting
some of you, denying you your heart's desire, or taking from you the
delight of your eyes. Perhaps He is placing you in circumstances where
you are puzzled and bewildered and do not know what to do–and all for
this reason–that you may become sick of yourself and fond of
Christ–that you may know your own folly and may trust yourself with
purpose of heart to the Divine Wisdom, for, rest assured, nothing can
happen to you that is much worse than to trust yourselves!
A man may escape from poverty, but if he falls into self-confidence he
has, of two evils, fallen into the worse! A man may escape from great
blunders and yet if he grows proud because he was so prudent, it may
happen that his conceit of his own wisdom may be a worse evil than the
mistakes which he might have made. Anything is better than vain-glory
and self-esteem. Self-trust before God is a monster evil which the Lord
will not endure! Indeed, He so abhors it that He has pronounced a curse
upon it–"Cursed is the man that trusts in man and makes flesh his
arm." That dread word of warning emphatically applies to those who
trust in themselves. Let me, then, think most solemnly of the fact that
if I am relying upon myself for acceptance with God, or for power to
serve Him, I am cursed!
I am so and I must be so, because trusting in myself means idolatry and
idolatry is a cursed thing. The self-truster puts himself into God's
place, for God alone is to be relied upon. "Trust in Him at all times,
you people. Pour out your heart before Him." Trusting in yourself, you
lift yourself into the Throne where God alone may sit and so you become
a traitor. To trust yourself is the result of a gross falsehood and it
also imputes falsehood to the God of Truth, for you do, as it were,
deny that God can be believed and you assert that you can be trusted,
whereas the Lord declares that no man is the proper object of trust.
"He that trusts in his own heart," He says, "is a fool." But you will
not have it so and, therefore, you make God out to be a liar!
To trust in one's self is a piece of impertinent pride, insulting to
the Majesty of Heaven. It is a preference of ourselves to God, so that
we take our own opinion in preference to His Revelation. We follow our
own whim in preference to His Providential direction. We, as it were,
become gods to ourselves and act as if we knew better than God. It is,
therefore, a very high crime and misdemeanor against the Majesty of
Heaven that we should trust in ourselves. And in whomever this evil
exists, it makes a man intolerable to God! Yet, Brothers and Sisters,
this fourth remark must be made, that this evil is very hard to
cure–for it seems that to prevent it in Paul it was necessary for the
Great Physician to go the length of making Paul feel the sentence of
death in himself–nothing short of this could cure the tendency.
On another occasion it is written, "Lest I should be exalted above
measure, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of
Satan to buffet me." In the case mentioned in our text, the buffeting
of Satan does not seem to have sufficed and God, in His Providence and
love, deemed it necessary to cause the sentence of death to ring out
its knell in the Apostle's heart. A sentence of death! Can you conceive
the feeling of a man who has just seen the judge put on the black cap
and pronounce the sentence of death? The condemned cell, the iron bars,
the prison fare, the grim guards–these are nothing compared to the
death-sentence–the sentence of death! This is terrible! Paul must feel
that woe!
A sharp knife was necessary to cut out the cancer of self-trust even
from such an one as Paul. This bitter potion, bitter as gall, he must
drink even to the dregs. The sentence must not only be in his ears, but
be in his very self. "We had the sentence of death in ourselves."
Nothing short of this could prevent his being polluted with self-trust,
for if less suffering would have sufficed, the Lord would have spared
him so dread a sorrow. As stones fall towards the earth, so do we
gravitate towards self. If we are zealous, self-trust says, "What a
zealous man you are! You can certainly carry everything before you." If
we grow diffident, then this same pride whispers, "What a humble,
modest person you are! You are not conceited or rash, you can well be
trusted."
If God grants us a little success in working for Him, we blow the
trumpets that all men may be aware of it. Our Lord can scarcely send us
on the most common errand without danger of our becoming like
Jack-in-Office–too proud to be borne with! The Lord cannot allow us a
little sweet communion with Christ but what we say, "Oh, what joy I
have had! What delights at His table! What a precious season of private
prayer! I am somebody!" Yes, we are prone to sacrifice before this most
base idol–I say the most base idol–for surely there is no idolatry so
utterly degrading as the worship of one's self! Alas, we cannot get rid
of the flavor of the Egyptian leeks and onions! Self clings to us as a
foul odor not to be gotten out of our unclean flesh!
Does the Lord teach us much of His Word? Then we grow proud of
knowledge. Does the Lord help us to comfort His people? Then we set up
ourselves, at once, as something wonderful in the Church. Does Christ
reveal Himself to us as He does not to the world? Ah, then our heads
are ready to smite the stars, we are so great! God save us from this
subtle mal-
ady, this spiritual leprosy! I think I may add, even, if nothing else
but the sentence of death in ourselves can stop us from trusting in
ourselves, then let even this remedy be used.
II. But now I invite you for a few minutes to look at THE TREATMENT
ordained for the Apostle's cure–"We had the sentence of death in
ourselves," which means, first, that he seemed to hear the verdict of
death passed upon him by the conditions which surrounded him. So
continually hounded by his malicious countrymen, he felt certain that
one day or other they would cause his destruction he was so frequently
subject to popular violence. He felt that his life was not worth a
moment's purchase and, therefore, so sick in body and so depressed in
spirit he felt that he might, at any moment, expire.
The original conveys the idea, not only of a verdict from without, but
of an answer of assent from within. There was an echo in his
consciousness–an inward dread–a sort of apprehension that he was soon
to die. The world threatened him with death and he felt that one of
these days the threat would be carried out and that very speedily. And
yet it was not so–he survived all the designs of the foe. My Brothers
and Sisters, we often feel a thousand deaths in fearing one. We die
before we die and find ourselves alive to die again! Death seems
certain and yet the bird escapes even out of the fowler's hands. Just
when he was about to wring its neck it flew aloft. Listen! How it
sings, far above his reach. "Unto God the Lord belong the escapes from
death."
A witty saying puts it, "Let us never say die till we are dead." But
then we shall most truly say we live forever and ever! Let us postpone
despair till the evil comes. Into a low state of spirit was Paul
brought–death appeared imminent and his eyes of faith gazed into the
eternities and this prevented his trusting in himself. The man who
feels that he is about to die is no longer able to trust in himself.
After this manner the remedy works our health. What earthly thing can
help us when we are about to die? Paul needed not to say, "My riches
will not help me," for he had no wealth. He had no need to say, "My
lands and broad acres cannot comfort me, now," for he had not even a
foot of land to call his own–his whole estate lay in a few needles
with which he made and mended tents.
His trade implements and a manuscript book or two were all his
possessions. He says, in effect, "Nothing on earth can help me now. My
tongue, with which I preached, cannot plead with Death, whose deaf ears
no oratory can charm. My epistles and my power of writing cannot stand
me in any stead, for no pen can arrest the death warrant–it is written
and I must die. Friends cannot help me. Titus, Timothy, none of these
can come to my aid. Neither Barnabas nor Silas can pass through the
death stream with me–I must ford the torrent alone." He felt as every
man must who is a true Christian and is about to die, that he must
commit his spirit unto Christ and watch for His appearing. He
determined whether he died or lived that he would spend and be spent
for the Lord Jesus.
Brothers and Sisters, we do not yet know what dying is–the way to the
other land is an untrod path as yet. We read about Heaven and so on,
but we know very little of the way there. To the mind of one about to
die, the unknown frequently causes a creeping sensation of fear and the
heart is full of horror. Paul felt the chill of death coming over him
and by this means his trust in himself was killed and he was driven to
rely upon his God! If nothing else will cure us of self-confidence we
may be content to have the rope about our neck, or to lay our neck upon
the block, or to feel the death rattle in our throats! We may be
satisfied to sink as in the deep waters if this would cure us of
trusting in ourselves!
Such was the case with Paul, when his gracious Master put forth His
hand to turn Him aside from all glorying in the flesh. What was more, I
think Paul means, here, that the sentence of death which he heard
outside worked within his soul a sense of entire helplessness. He was
striving to fight for the kingdom and Gospel of Christ, but he saw that
he must be baffled if he had nothing to rely upon but himself–he was
hampered and hemmed in on every side by the opposing Jews who would not
permit him to go about his work in peace. He despaired even of his
life. He was not able to get at his work, for these persons were always
about him, howling at him, uttering falsehoods against him and
hindering him. He became so worried and wearied that he was pressed and
oppressed, immeasurably loaded and brought into such a state of mind
that all inward comfort failed him and he was obliged to look above for
succor.
His faculties were cramped as with a mortal rigor, his reason argued
against him and his imagination rather created terrors than
expectations. He knew the experience so poetically described by Kirke
White in his hymn upon the star of Bethlehem–
"Deep horror, then, my vitals froze, Death struck, I ceased the tide to
stem."
And he also knew the joy of the other two lines of the verse–
"When suddenly a star arose, It was the star of Bethlehem."
Paul's mind was so struck with death within himself that he could not
stem the torrent and would have drifted to despair had he not given
himself up into the hands of Divine Grace and proved the loving power
of God.
My Brothers and Sisters, you may never have experienced this and I do
not wish that you may do so to the same extent as the Apostle, for the
Lord may not bring you into a condition of exaltation where you are so
exposed to the peril of self-confidence and, therefore, it may not be
necessary to make you feel, to the same extent, this sentence of death.
But I am aware that some of God's people here know what it is to see
death written upon everything within them and around them and these
dare not trust in themselves!
Ah, there are times with some of us when we appear to lose all power to
think aright; when we set ourselves to a subject and our brain will not
exercise itself upon it; when we wish to do right and cannot tell which
of two courses is the proper one. At times we cannot make out our
way–we kneel to pray and find that we cannot pray as we would like to
do–the whole energy and force of our spirit seems to be shriveled up
as though the desert heat had blown over the meadow of our soul and
left every blade of grass and flower dead beneath its burning breath.
Such things do happen to men and when they happen, this is God's severe
but effectual treatment whereby He prevents their trusting in
themselves!
You have said, sometimes, of a very useful person–"God honors that man
and I am afraid he will be proud." You might well tremble for him were
it not that behind the door God whips the man and makes him loathe
himself in dust and ashes! If the great Father favors any one of you
with usefulness to any great extent or degree, depend upon it, He will
favor you, also, with humiliations and spiritual conflicts, unless,
indeed, you have so much Grace that you do not need these correctives
and this is not the case with many. Brothers and Sisters, take the
bitter with the sweet–all things work together for good, not one
alone, neither the exaltation nor the depression, alone–but "all
things work together for good to them that love God."
The compound brings the benefit to us. As one drug in a compound
medicine counteracts another and the whole result is health, so is it
with the total sum of different Providences–it brings benefit to us
and glory to God. I think I need not say any more about this remedy,
except to notice that the Lord uses the same treatment in dealing with
men who as yet are not saved. Why is it that one of the first works of
Grace on a man is to take away all his comfort and hope? I will soon
tell you. Suppose that a poor man had fallen into such a state of mind
that he could not bear the sun, but lived in perpetual candle light? He
dreamed that no light could equal his poor tapers and he despised the
sun–only candles for him–he hated daylight!
By the way, I am not wild in this supposition, for there are people who
cannot worship God without candles, even in the daylight and yet they
are not said to be insane! But to return to the imaginary case, our
poor, weak-minded friend is prejudiced against the sun and we aim to
bring him into brightness. How shall we proceed? I think we had better
blow out his candles and leave him in the dark and then, perhaps, he
will be willing to try the light of Heaven. Then I would take him
outdoors and let him see the sun. And, after he had once beheld its
superior light, he would never be able to praise his poor candles
again! The first thing is to blow his candles out–and the first thing
to bring a man to Christ, the Divine Light–is to put out his own
feeble tapers of self-trust.
I have heard of one who fell into the water and sank and a strong
swimmer standing on the shore did not at the same instant plunge in,
though fully resolved to rescue him. The man went down the second time
and then he who would rescue him was in the water swimming near him,
but not too near, waiting very cautiously till his time came. He who
was drowning was a strong, energetic man and the other was too prudent
to expose himself to the risk of being dragged under by his struggles.
He let the man go down for the third time and then he knew that his
strength was quite exhausted and, swimming to him, he grasped him and
drew him to shore. If he had seized him at first, while the drowning
man had strength, they would have gone down together!
The first part of human salvation is the sentence of death upon all
human power and merit. When all hope in self is quite gone, Christ
comes in and, with His Divine Grace rescues the soul from destruction.
As long as you think you can swim, you will kick and struggle and
drown! But when you see the futility of all your own efforts and
perceive that you are without strength, you will leave yourselves with
Jesus and be saved. The eternal power will come in when your power
goes out. The sentence of death in yourselves will prevent your
trusting in yourselves–death recorded and death confessed to be a just
penalty will expel all vain hope and Grace will be welcomed and the
heart will believe with a true faith worked in it by the Spirit of God!
III. Thirdly, let us think of THE CURE. It was sharp medicine, but it
worked well with Paul, for we find, first, that Paul's self-trust was
prevented–every rising token of it was effectually removed. He says,
"We had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not trust in
ourselves." Under this influence he preached as though he never might
preach again–a dying man to dying men! I have heard of Brethren who do
not expect to die. I do not wish to disturb their hope if it gives them
comfort, but I know there is something very salutary in my own sense of
the nearness of death. Christ may come, it is true, and this faith has
the same effect as the expectation of going Home to Him, but one way or
the other, the sense of the insecurity of this mortal life is good for
us.
To bring death very near to the mind is a solemn, searching,
sanctifying exercise. Our forefathers of centuries ago were known to
have a human skull on the table where they read their Bibles. I do not
recommend so sickening a device– we can have a memento of death in
better form than that! Still, it is greatly wise to talk about our last
hours, to be familiar with the grave, to walk among those little
hillocks where our predecessors sleep and to remember that all the
world is like a sandy beach where, after the tide has gone, innumerable
little worm casts cover all the plain. Such a worm cast, I, too, shall
leave behind me. This world is full of death's handiwork, a very
morgue–no, better–name it a God's acre, a sleeping place where
myriads lie waiting for the awakening trumpet! We, too, may expect to
sleep with them and, therefore, we must not confide in ourselves.
Are you a dying man and can you trust yourself? More frail than the
moth, driven up and down like a sere leaf in the tempest, can you trust
yourself? I hope a sense of death will work a cure of that tendency in
us. When the sentence of death assumes the form of an experience of
despair as to everything that is of our own selves, then it has
thoroughly worked the cure. I have gone up and down in my own soul
where once sweet things did sing and fair hopes bloomed and I have
searched in every chamber to hear a note or find a flower and I have
found nothing but silence and death. I have gone abroad into the fields
of my imagination where once I saw much that made my heart right glad
and I have seen a valley of dry bones where only death reigned.
Everything which I formerly rejoiced in was touched by the paralyzing
hand–all was dead within me, sentence was passed and apparently
executed upon my whole being.
If a man does not trust God then, when will he? And if this does not
take him off from self-confidence, what is to do it? This treatment
never fails when the Holy Spirit uses it. Remember, this was only half
the result in Paul's case, for he does not only say that by this
sentence of death he was delivered from trusting in himself, but he was
led to trust "in God which raises the dead." Now, my Brothers and
Sisters, we have come out of the gloom of the sepulcher into the glory
of the resurrection! "God which raises the dead" is our hope! The
doctrine of the Resurrection is essential to the Christian system and
Paul takes it for granted.
When he was delivered from trusting in himself because of the sentence
of death, the first thing he did was to trust in the God and Father of
His risen Lord. For first he argued thus–If I die, what does it
matter? God can raise me from the dead. If they stone me, if they smite
me with the sword, if they fling me headlong into the sea, I shall rise
again! I know that my Redeemer lives and that I shall see Him when He
appears. He inferred, also, that if God could raise him from the dead,
He could preserve him from a violent death. He that could restore him,
if he were dead and rotten in the tomb, could certainly keep him from
dying till all his lifework was accomplished. This inference is
unquestionably true–
"Plagues and deaths around me fly, But till He bids I cannot die! Not a
single shaft can hit Till the God of love thinks fit." Immortal is
every Believer till his work is done! Paul felt this and was comforted.
He argued yet further that if God can raise the dead and call together
the separate atoms of a body long since dissolved and rebuild the house
out of such ruin, then surely He could take his fainting powers, over
which the sentence of death has passed and He could use them for His
own purposes! Thus would I also reason with myself when I am deeply
depressed. He can make me feel His life within me again! And He can
make great use of me under all my weaknesses and difficulties. It needs
Omnipotence to wake the dead! That same Omnipotence can make me triumph
and enable me to do
its will, whatever may stand in my way! Is not this a blessed form of
argument–that God, who raises the dead can do for me, can do in me,
can do by me great things for which His name shall have glory forever
and ever?
Brothers and Sisters, we need to get away, more and more, from
ourselves and we shall never do it till we write this down in our
books–that self is dead–we must make a corpse of it. We sometimes
hear that in setting forth the balance sheet of a banking establishment
a mistake was committed by putting down a doubtful asset at too high a
value–we must keep clear of such a blunder in making up our spiritual
balances. There is no fear of undue depreciation if you say of anything
which belongs to self, "it is good for nothing! Set it down as
worthless.''" If, then, you have written yourself down at twenty
shillings in the pound, my dear Brother, I warn you that you will never
realize it. But you say, "I never thought to get more than half-a-crown
in the pound out of self'–you will never get that in good money!
"Well, I will put it down at a farthing in the pound." You will never
realize even that! It will cost you more to get it than it is worth–it
is altogether a deception! He that trusts in himself not only gets not
a farthing in the pound out of what he trusted in, but he is a loser by
his foolish confidence. I should not like to realize myself–it would
be an awful loss and leave a great gap in my checking account, for what
am I but a mass of wounds, a bag of necessities, a mountain of
weakness, a world of infirmities and nothing else worth mentioning? Do
not put yourself down in your spiritual assets at all except as a debt,
a liability and an encumbrance. Say, "Self is dead," and you will be
happy if you find that he is dead, for the most of your trouble will
come from his being too much alive!
That old corrupt nature–ah, the vagabond–if he were, indeed, dead and
would never struggle again, what a mercy! But there is still life in
the old dog–life of a troublesome sort, full of mischief! Wisdom
reckons self as a dead and worthless thing, to be mortified, but never
to be trusted. Folly talks otherwise and bids you think well of
yourself, but do not listen to its doting. He says, "You are getting to
be an old man now; those gray hairs have brought experience and
wisdom–you are not like those young chits of children that have just
come into the Church." No, but there is no fool like an old fool! Mind
you, do not become another example of that old saying! Do not say to
yourself, "Ah, now you are a man of wide experience, you are! You are
not like those narrow-minded people who never went beyond their cottage
or the hedges of their little farm. You have had a splendidly wide
experience."
Ah, but no blunder is so great as the blunder of a great man! No man is
capable of doing so much mischief as the man who has capacity for doing
great good. "Oh, but," says someone, "I am so careful, so guarded, that
there can be no fear of me." Yet no one is so likely to sleep as the
watchman who flatters himself that he does not even doze! So it used to
be in the old days–and you watchful people are sure to go wrong if you
are proud of being watchful. If, on the other hand, you feel that you
are not as watchful as you ought to be and pray to be made more so, you
will be kept right. Trust in ourselves is a kind of manna which will
breed worms and stink and it will make our house unbearable and
ourselves sick. Sweep it out! Oh, for a state of weakness that is
strong in the Divine strength! Oh, to be nothing! To be NOTHING, that
God may be All in All! Amen and amen! So let it be!
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Samuel–an Example of Intercession