Love's Complaining
A Sermon
(No. 1926)
Delivered on Lord's-day Morning, October 24th, 1886, by
C. H. SPURGEON,
At the [12]Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington
"Nevertheless I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left thy
first love. Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent,
and do the first works; or else I will come unto thee quickly, and will
remove thy candlestick out of his place, except thou repent"–Rev
2:4,5.
IT WAS the work of the priest to go into the holy place and to trim the
seven-branched lamp of gold: see how our Great High Priest walketh in
the midst of the seven golden candlesticks: his work is not occasional,
but constant. Wearing robes which are at once royal and priestly, he is
seen lighting the holy lamps, pouring in the sacred oil, and removing
impurities which would dim the light.
Hence our Lord's fitness to deal with the churches, which are these
golden lamp-stands, for no one knows so much about the lamps as the
person whose constant work it is to watch them and trim them. No one
knows the churches as Jesus does, for the care of all the churches
daily comes upon him, he continually walks among them, and holds their
ministers as stars in his right hand. His eyes are perpetually upon the
churches, so that he knows their works, their sufferings, and their
sins; and those eyes are as a flame of fire, so that he sees with a
penetration, discernment, and accuracy to which no other can attain. We
sometimes judge the condition of religion too leniently, or else we err
on the other side, and judge too severely. Our eyes are dim with the
word's smoke; but his eyes are as a flame of fire. He sees the churches
through and through, and knows their true condition much better than
they know themselves. The Lord Jesus Christ is a most careful observer
of churches and of individuals; nothing is hid from his observant eye.
As he is the most careful observer, so he is the most candid. He is
ever "the faithful and true witness." He loves much, and therefore he
never judges harshly. He loves much, and therefore he always judges
jealously. Jealousy is the sure attendant of such love as his. He will
neither speak smooth words nor bitter words; but he will speak the
truth–the truth in love, the truth as he himself perceives it, and as
he would have us perceive it. Well may he say, "He that hath an ear,
let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches," since his
sayings are so true, so just, so weighty.
Certainly no observer can be so tender as the Son of God. Those lamps
are very precious to him: it cost him his life to light them. "Christ
loved the church, and gave himself for it." Every church is to our Lord
a more sublime thing than a constellation in the heavens; as he is
precious to his saints, so are they precious to him. He careth little
for empires, kingdoms, or republics; but his heart is set on the
kingdom of righteousness, of which his cross is the royal standard. He
must reign until his foes are vanquished, and this is the great thought
of his mind at this present, "From henceforth expecting till his
enemies be made his footstool." He ceases not to watch over his church:
his sacrifice is ended, but not his service in caring for the golden
lamps. He has completed the redemption of his bride, but he continues
her preservation.
I therefore feel at this time that we may well join in a prayer to our
Lord Jesus to come into our midst and put our light in order. Oh for a
visit from himself such as he paid in vision to the seven churches of
Asia! With him is the oil to feed the living flame, and he knows how to
pour it in according to due measure; with him are those golden snuffers
with which to remove every superfluity of naughtiness, that our lights
may so shine before men, that they may see our good works, and glorify
our Father which is in heaven. Oh for his presence now, to search us
and to sanctify us; to cause us to shine forth to his Father's praise!
We would be judged of the Lord, that we may not be condemned with the
world. We would pray this morning, "Search me, O God, and know my
heart: try me, and know my thoughts; and see if there be any wicked way
in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." All things are naked and
open to the eyes of him with whom we have to do; and we delight to have
it so. We invite thee, O great High Priest, to come into this
sanctuary, and look to this thy lamp this morning.
In the text, as it is addressed to the church at Ephesus and to us, we
note three things. First, we note that Christ perceives: "I know thy
works . . . nevertheless I have somewhat against thee." Secondly,
Christ prescribes: "Remember, therefore, from whence thou art fallen,
and repent," and so forth. Thirdly, Christ persuades–persuades with a
threatening: "I will remove thy candlestick out of his place;"
persuades, also, with a promise: "To him that overcometh will I give to
eat of the tree of life, which is in the midst of the paradise of God."
If the Lord himself be here at this time, our plan of discourse will be
a river of life; but if he be not among us by his Holy Spirit, it will
be as the dry bed of a torrent which bears the name of "river," but
lacks the living stream. We expect our Lord's presence; he will come to
the lamps which his office calls upon him to trim; it has been his wont
to be with us; some of us have met him this morning already, and we
have constrained him to tarry with us.
I. First, then, we notice that HE PERCEIVES.
Our Lord sorrowfully perceives the faults of his church–"Nevertheless
I have somewhat against thee;" but he does not so perceive those faults
as to be forgetful of that which he can admire and accept; for he
begins his letter with commendations, "I know thy works, and thy
labour, and thy patience, and how thou canst not bear them which are
evil." Do not think, my brethren, that our Beloved is blind to the
beauties of his church. On the contrary, he delights to observe them.
He can see beauties where she herself cannot see them. Where we observe
much to deplore, his loving eyes see much to admire. The graces which
he himself creates he can always perceive. When we in the earnestness
of self-examination overlook them, and write bitter things against
ourselves, the Lord Jesus sees even in those bitter self-condemnations
a life and earnestness and sincerity which he loves. Our Lord has a
keen eye for all that is good. When he searches our hearts he never
passes by the faintest longing, or desire, or faith, or love, of any of
his people. He says, "I know thy works."
But this is our point at this time, that while Jesus can see all that
is good, yet in very faithfulness he sees all that is evil. His love is
not blind. He does not say, "As many as I love I commend;" but, "As
many as I love, I rebuke and chasten." It is more necessary for us that
we should make a discovery of our faults than of our virtues. So notice
in this text that Christ perceiveth the flaw in his church, even in the
midst of her earnest service. The church at Ephesus was full of work.
"I know thy works and thy labour, and for my name's sake thou hast
laboured, and hast not fainted." It was such a laborious church that it
pushed on and on with diligent perseverance, and never seemed to flag
in its divine mission. Oh that we could say as much of all our
churches! I have lived to see many brilliant projects lighted and left
to die out in smoke. I have heard of schemes which were to illuminate
the world; but not a spark remains. Holy perseverance is a great
desideratum. In these three and thirty years we thank God he has
enabled us to labour and not to faint. There has been a continuance of
everything attempted, and no drawing back from anything. "This is the
work, this is the labour," to hold out even to the end. Oh how I have
dreaded lest we should have to give up any holy enterprise or cut short
any gracious effort! Hitherto the Lord has helped us. With men and
means, liberality and zeal, he has supplied us. In this case the angel
of the church has been very little of an angel from heaven, but very
much of a human angel; for in the weakness of my flesh and in the
heaviness of my spirit have I pursued my calling; but I have pursued
it. By the help of God I continue to this day, and this church with
equal footsteps is at my side; for which the whole praise is due to the
Lord, who fainteth not, neither is weary. Having put my hand to the
plough I have not looked back, but have steadily pressed forward,
making straight furrows; but it has been by the grace of God alone.
Alas! under all the labouring the Lord Jesus perceived that the
Ephesians had left their first love; and this was a grievous fault. So
it may be in this church; every wheel may continue to revolve, and the
whole machinery of ministry may be kept going at its normal rate, and
yet there may be a great secret evil which Jesus perceives, and this
may be marring all.
But this church at Ephesus was not only laborious, it was patient in
suffering great persecution. He says of it: "I know thy works and thy
patience, and how thou hast borne, and hast patience, and hast not
fainted." Persecution upon persecution visited the faithful, but they
bore it all with holy courage and constancy, and continued still
confessing their Lord. This was good, and the Lord highly approved it;
but yet underneath it he saw the tokens of decline; they had left their
first love. So there may seem to be all the patient endurance and
dauntless courage that there should be, and yet as a fair apple may
have a worm at its core, so may it be with the church when it looks
best to the eye of friends.
The Ephesian church excelled in something else, namely, in its
discipline, its soundness in the faith, and fidelity towards heretics;
for the Lord says of it, "how thou canst not bear them which are evil."
They would not have it; they would not tolerate false doctrine, they
would not put up with unclean living. They fought against evil, not
only in the common people, but in prominent individuals. "Thou has
tried them which say they are apostles, and are not, and hast found
them liars." They had dealt with the great ones; they had not flinched
from the unmasking of falsehood. Those who seemed to be apostles they
had dragged to the light and discovered to be deceivers. This church
was not honeycombed with doubt; it laid no claim to breadth of thought
and liberality of view; it was honest to its Lord. He says of it, "This
thou hast, that thou hatest the deeds of the Nicolaitanes, which I also
hate." This was grand of them: it showed a backbone of truth. I wish
some of the churches of this age had a little of this holy decision
about them; for nowadays, if a man be clever, he may preach the vilest
lie that was ever vomited from the mouth of hell, and it will go down
with some. He may assail every doctrine of the gospel, he may blaspheme
the Holy Trinity, he may trample on the blood of the Son of God, and
yet nothing shall be said about it if he be held in repute as a man of
advanced thought and liberal ideas. The church at Ephesus was not of
this mind. She was strong in her convictions; she could not yield the
faith, nor play the traitor to her Lord. For this her Lord commended
her: and yet he says, "I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast
left thy first love." When love dies orthodox doctrine becomes a
corpse, a powerless formalism. Adhesion to the truth sours into bigotry
when the sweetness and light of love to Jesus depart. Love Jesus, and
then it is well to hate the deeds of the Nicolaitanes; but mere hate of
evil will tend to evil if love of Jesus be not there to sanctify it. I
need not make a personal application; but that which is spoken to
Ephesus may be spoken at this hour to ourselves. As we hope that we may
appropriate the commendation, so let us see whether the expostulation
may not also apply to us. "I have somewhat against thee, because thou
hast left thy first love." Thus I have shown you that Jesus sees the
evil beneath all the good; he does not ignore the good, but he will not
pass over the ill.
So, next, this evil was a very serious one; it was love declining:
"Thou hast left thy first love." "Is that serious?" saith one. It is
the most serious ill of all; for the church is the bride of Christ, and
for a bride to fail in love is to fail in all things. It is idle for
the wife to say that she is obedient, and so forth: if love to her
husband has evaporated, her wifely duty cannot be fulfilled, she has
lost the very life and soul of the marriage state. So, my brethren,
this is a most important matter, our love to Christ, because it touches
the very heart of that communion with him which is the crown and
essence of our spiritual life. As a church we must love Jesus, or else
we have lost our reason for existence. A church has no reason for being
a church when she has no love within her heart, or when that love grows
cold. Have I not often reminded you that almost any disease may be
hopefully endured except disease of the heart? But when our sickness is
a disease of the heart, it is full of danger; and it was so in this
case; "Thou hast left thy first love." It is a disease of the heart, a
central, fatal disease, unless the great Physician shall interpose to
stay its progress, and to deliver us from it. Oh, in any man, in any
woman, any child of God here, let alone in the church as a whole, if
there be a leaving of the first love, it is a woeful thing! Lord have
mercy upon us; Christ have mercy upon us: this should be our solemn
litany at once. No peril can be greater than this. Lose love, lose all.
Leave our first love, we have left strength, and peace, and joy, and
holiness.
I call your attention, however, to this point, that it was he that
found it out. "I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left thy
first love." Jesus himself found it out! I do not know how it strikes
you; but as I thought it over, this fact brought the tears to my eyes.
When I begin to leave off loving Christ, or love him less than I do, I
would like to find it out myself; and if I did so, there would soon be
a cure for it. But for him to find it out, oh, it seems so hard, so sad
a thing! That we should keep on growing cold, and cold, and cold, and
never care about it till the Beloved points it out to us. Why even the
angel of the church did not find it out; the minister did not know it;
but He saw it who loves us so well, that he delights in our love, and
pines when it begins to fail. To him we are unutterably dear; he loved
us up out of the pit into his bosom, loved us up from the dunghill
among beggars to sit at his right hand upon his throne; and it is
sorrowful that he should have to complain of our cooling love while we
are utterly indifferent to the matter. Does Jesus care more about our
love than we do? He loves us better than we love ourselves. How good of
him to care one jot about our love! This is no complaint of an enemy,
but of a dear wounded friend.
I notice that Jesus found it out with great pain. I can hardly conceive
a greater grief to him as the husband of his church than to look her in
the face and say, "Thou hast left thy first love." What can she give
him but love? Will she deny him this? A poor thing is the church of
herself: her Lord married her when she was in beggary; and if she does
not give him love, what has she to give him? If she begins to be
unfaithful in heart to him, what is she worth? Why, any unloving wife
is a foul fountain of discomfort and dishonour to her husband. O
beloved, shall it be so with thee? Wilt thou grieve Emmanuel? Wilt thou
would thy Well-beloved? Church of God, wilt thou grieve him whose heart
was pierced for thy redemption? Brother, sister, can you and I let
Jesus find out that our love is departing, that we are ceasing to be
zealous for his name? Can we wound him so? Is not this to crucify the
Lord afresh? Might he not hold up his hands this morning with fresh
blood upon them, and say, "These are the wounds which I received in the
house of my friends. It was nothing that I died for them, but ill it is
that, after having died for them, they have failed to give me their
hearts?" Jesus is not so sick of our sin as of our lukewarmness. It is
a sad business to my heart; I hope it will be sad to all whom it
concerns, that our Lord should be the first to spy out our declines in
love.
The Saviour, having thus seen this with pain, now points it out. As I
read this passage over to myself, I noticed that the Saviour had
nothing to say about the sins of the heathen among whom the Ephesians
dwelt: they are alluded to because it must have been the heathen who
persecuted the church, and caused it to endure, and exhibit patience.
The Saviour, however, has nothing to say against the heathen; and he
does not say much more than a word about those who were evil. These had
been cast out, and he merely says: "Thou canst not bear them which are
evil." He denounced no judgment upon the Nicolaitanes, except that he
hated them; and even the apostles which were found to be liars the
Master dismisses with that word. He leaves the ungodly in their own
condemnation. But what he has to say is against his own beloved: "I
have somewhat against thee." It seems as if the Master might pass over
sin in a thousand others, but he cannot wink at failure of love in his
own espoused one. "The Lord thy God is a jealous God." The Saviour
loves, so that his love is cruel as the grave against cold-heartedness.
He said of the church of Laodicea, "I will spue thee out of my mouth."
This was one of his own churches, too, and yet she made him sick with
her lukewarmness. God grant that we may not be guilty of such a crime
as that!
The Saviour pointed out the failure of love; and when he pointed it out
he called it by a lamentable name. "Remember therefore from whence thou
art fallen." He calls it a fall to leave our first love. Brothers,
sisters, this church had not been licentious, it had not gone aside to
false doctrine, it had not become idle, it had not been cowardly in the
hour of persecution; but this one sin summed up the whole–she did not
love Christ as she once loved him, and he calls this a fall. A fall
indeed it is. "Oh, I thought," saith one, "that if a member of the
church got drunk that was a fall." That is a grievous fall, but it is a
fall if we become intoxicated with the world, and lose the freshness of
our devotion to Jesus. It is a fall from a high estate of fellowship to
the dust of worldliness. "Thou art fallen." The word sounds very
harshly in my ears–no, not harshly, for his love speaks it in so
pathetic a manner; but it thunders in my soul deep down. I cannot bear
it. It is so sadly true. "Thou art fallen." "Remember from whence thou
art fallen." Indeed, O Lord, we have fallen when we have left our first
love for thee.
The Master evidently counts this decline of love to be a personal wrong
done to himself. "I have somewhat against thee." It is not an offence
against the king, nor against the judge, but against the Lord Jesus as
the husband of the church: an offence against the very heart of Christ
himself. "I have somewhat against thee." He does not say, "Thy
neighbour has somewhat against thee, thy child has somewhat against
thee, thy God has somewhat against thee," but, "I, I thy hope, thy joy,
thy delight, thy Saviour, I have this against thee." The word somewhat
is an intruder here. Our translators put it in italics, and well they
might, for it is a bad word, since it seems to make a small thing of a
very grave change. The Lord has this against us, and it is no mere
"somewhat." Come, brothers and sisters, if we have not broken any law,
nor offended in any way so as to grieve anybody else, this is sorrow
enough, if our love has grown in the least degree chill towards him;
for we have done a terrible wrong to our best friend. This is the
bitterness of our offence; Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and
done this evil in thy sight, that I have left my first love. The
Saviour tells us this most lovingly. I wish I knew how to speak as
tenderly as he does; and yet I feel at this moment that I can and must
be tender in this matter, for I am speaking about myself as much as
about anybody else. I am grieving, grieving over some here present,
grieving for all of us, but grieving most of all for myself, that our
Well-beloved should have cause to say, "I have somewhat against thee,
because thou hast left thy first love."
So much for what our Lord perceives. Holy Spirit, bless it to us!
II. And now, secondly, let us note what THE SAVIOUR PRESCRIBES. The
Saviour's prescription is couched in these three words: "Remember,"
"Repent," "Return."
The first word is Remember. "Thou hast left thy first love." Remember,
then, what thy first love was, and compare thy present condition with
it. At first nothing diverted thee from thy Lord. He was thy life, thy
love, thy joy. Now thou lookest for recreation somewhere else, and
other charms and other beauties win thy heart. Art thou not ashamed of
this? Once thou wast never wearied with hearing of him and serving him.
Never wert thou overdone with Christ and his gospel: many sermons, many
prayer-meetings, many Bible readings, and yet none too many. Now
sermons are long, and services are dull, and thou must have thy jaded
appetite exited with novelties. How is this? Once thou wast never
displeased with Jesus whatever he did with thee. If thou hadst been
sick, or poor, or dying, thou wouldst still have loved and blessed his
name for all things. He remembers this fondness, and regrets its
departure. He says to thee to-day, "I remember thee, the kindness of
thy youth, the love of thine espousals, when thou wentest after me in
the wilderness." Thou wouldst have gone after thy Lord anywhere in
those days: across the sea, or through the fire, thou wouldst have
pursued him; nothing would have been too hot or too heavy for thee
then. Is it so now? Remember! Remember from whence thou art fallen.
Remember the vows, the tears, the communings, the happy raptures of
those days; remember and compare with them thy present state.
Remember and consider, that when thou wast in thy first love, that love
was none too warm. Even then, when thou didst live to him, and for him,
and with him, thou wast none too holy, none too consecrated, none too
zealous. If thou wast not too forward then, what art thou now–now that
thou hast come down even from that poor attainment? Remember the past
with sad forebodings of the future. If thou hast come down from where
thou wast, who is to tell thee where thou wilt cease thy declining? He
who has sunk so far may fall much farther. Is it not so? Though thou
sayest in thy heart like Hazael, "Is thy servant a dog?" thou mayest
turn out worse than a dog yet, yea, prove a very wolf. Who knows? thou
mayest even now be a devil! Thou mayest turn out a Judas, a son of
perdition, and deny thy Master, selling him for thirty pieces of
silver. When a stone begins to fall it falls with an ever-increasing
rate; and when a soul begins to leave its first love, it quits it more
and more, and more and more, til at last it falleth terribly. Remember!
The next word of the prescription is "Repent." Repent as thou didst at
first. The word so suitable to sinners is suitable to thee, for thou
hast grievously sinned. Repent of the wrong thou hast done thy Lord by
leaving thy first love of him. Couldst thou have lived a seraphic life,
only breathing his love, only existing for him, thou hadst done little
enough; but to quit thy first love, how grievously hast thou wronged
him! That love was well deserved, was it not? Why, then, hast thou left
it? Is Jesus less fair than he was? Does he love thee less than he did?
Has he been less kind and tender to thee than he used to be? Say, hast
thou outgrown him? Canst thou do without him? Hast thou a hope of
salvation apart from him? I charge thee, repent of this thine ill-doing
towards one who has a greater claim upon thy love than ever he had. He
ought to be to-day loved more than thou didst love him at thy very
best! O my heart, is not all this most surely true? How ill art thou
behaving! What an ingrate art thou! Repent! Repent!
Repent of much good that thou hast left undone through want of love.
Oh, if thou hadst always loved thy Lord at thy best, what mightest thou
not have known of him by this time! What good deeds thou mightest have
done by force of his love! How many hearts mightest thou have won for
thy Lord if thine own heart had been fuller of love, if thine own soul
had been more on fire! Thou hast lived a poor beggarly life because
thou hast allowed such poverty of love.
Repent! Repent! To my mind, as I thought over this text, the call for
repentance grew louder and louder, because of the occasion of its
utterance. Here is the glorious Lord, coming to his church and speaking
to her angel in tones of tender kindness. He condescends to visit his
people in all his majesty and glory, intending nothing but to manifest
himself in love to his own elect as he doth not to the world. And yet
he is compelled even then to take to chiding, and to say, "I have this
against thee, because thou hast left thy first love." Here is a love-
visit clouded with upbraiding–necessary upbraiding. What mischief sin
has done! It is a dreadful thing that when Jesus comes to his own dear
bride he should have to speak in grief, and not in joy. Must holy
communion, which is the wine of heaven, be embittered with the tonic of
expostulation? I see the upper springs of nearest fellowship, where the
waters of life leap from their first source in the heart of God. Are
not these streams most pure and precious? If a man drink thereof he
liveth for ever. Shall it be that even at the fountain-head they shall
be dashed with bitterness? Even when Christ communes personally with us
must he say, "I have somewhat against thee?" Break, my heart, that it
should be so! Well may we repent with a deep repentance when our
choicest joys are flavoured with the bitter herbs of regret, that our
best Beloved should have somewhat against us.
But then he says in effect, Return. The third word is this–"Repent,
and do the first works." Notice, that he does not say, "Repent, and get
back thy first love." This seems rather singular; but then love is the
chief of the first works, and, moreover, the first works can only come
of the first love. There must be in every declining Christian a
practical repentance. Do not be satisfied with regrets and resolves. Do
the first works; do not strain after the first emotions, but do the
first works. No renewal is so valuable as the practical cleansing of
our way. If the life be made right, it will prove that the love is so.
In doing the first works you will prove that you have come back to your
first love. The prescription is complete, because the doing of the
first works is meant to include the feeling of the first feelings, the
sighing of the first sighs, the enjoying of the first joys: these are
all supposed to accompany returning obedience and activity.
We are to get back to these first works at once. Most men come to
Christ with a leap; and I have observed that many who come back to him
usually do so at a bound. The slow revival of one's love is almost an
impossibility; as well expect the dead to rise by degrees. Love to
Christ is often love at first sight: we see him, and are conquered by
him. If we grow cold, the best thing we can do is to fasten our eyes on
him till we cry, "My soul melted while my Beloved spake." It is a happy
circumstance if I can cry, "Or ever I was aware, my soul made me like
the chariots of Amminadib." How sweet for the Lord to put us back again
at once into the old place, back again in a moment! My prayer is that
it may be so this morning with any declining one. May you so repent as
not merely to feel the old feelings, but instantly to do the first
works, and be once more as eager, as zealous, as generous, as
prayerful, as you used to be! If we should again see you breaking the
alabaster box, we should know that the old love had returned. May the
good Master help us to do as well as ever, yea, much better than
before!
Notice, however, that this will require much of effort and warfare; for
the promise which is made is "to him that overcometh." Overcoming
implies conflict. Depend upon it, if you conquer a wandering heart, you
will have to fight for it. "To him that overcometh," saith he, "will I
give to eat of the tree of life." You must fight your way back to the
garden of the Lord. You will have to fight against lethargy, against an
evil heart of unbelief, against the benumbing influence of the world.
In the name and power of him who bids you repent, you must wrestle and
struggle till you get the mastery over self, and yield your whole
nature to your Lord.
So I have shown you how Christ prescribes, and I greatly need a few
minutes for the last part, because I wish to dwell with solemn
earnestness upon it. I have no desire to say a word by which I may
prove myself a true brother pleading with you in deep sympathy, because
in all the ill which I rebuke I mourn my own personal share. Bless us,
O Spirit of the Lord!
III. Now see, brethren, HE PERSUADES. This is the third point: the Lord
Jesus persuades his erring one to repent.
First, he persuades with a warning: "I will come unto thee;" "quickly"
is not in the original: the Revised Version has left it out. Our Lord
is generally very slow at the work of judgment: "I will come unto thee,
and will remove thy candlestick out of its place, except thou repent."
This he must do: he cannot allow his light to be apart from love, and
if the first love be left, the church shall be left in darkness. The
truth must always shine, but not always in the same place. The place
must be made fit by love, or the light shall be removed.
Our Lord means, first, I will take away the comfort of the Word. He
raises up certain ministers, and makes them burning and shining lights
in the midst of his church, and when the people gather together they
are cheered and enlightened by their shining. A ministry blessed of the
Lord is a singular comfort to the church of God. The Lord can easily
take away that light which has brought comfort to so many: he can
remove the good man to another sphere, or he can call him home to his
rest. The extinguisher of death can put out the candle which now
gladdens the house. The church which has lost a ministry by which the
Lord's glory has shone forth has lost a good deal; and if this loss has
been sent in chastisement for decline of love it is all the harder to
bear. I can point you to places where once was a man of God, and all
went well; but the people grew cold, and the Lord took away their
leader, and the place is now a desolation: those who now attend those
courts and listen to a modern ministry cry out because of the famine of
the Word of the Lord. O friends, let us value the light while we have
it, and prove that we do so by profiting by it; but how can we profit
if we leave our first love? The Lord may take away our comfort as a
church if our first zeal shall die down.
But the candlestick also symbolizes usefulness: it is that by which a
church shines. The use of a church is to preserve the truth, wherewith
to illuminate the neighbourhood, to illuminate the world. God can soon
cut short our usefulness, and he will do so if we cut short our love.
If the Lord be withdrawn, we can go on with our work as we used to do,
but nothing will come of it: we can go on with Sunday-schools,
mission-stations, branch churches, and yet accomplish nothing.
Brethren, we can go on with the Orphanage, the College, the Colportage,
the Evangelistic Society, the Book Fund, and all else, and yet nothing
will be effected if the arm of the Lord be not made bare.
He can, if he wills, even take away from the church her very existence
as a church. Ephesus is gone: nothing but ruins can be found. Rome once
held a noble church of Christ, but has not her name become the symbol
of antichrist? The Lord can soon take away candlesticks out of their
places if the church uses her light for her own glory, and is not
filled with his love. God forbid that we should fall under this
condemnation! Of thy mercy, O Lord, forbid it! Let it not so happen to
any one of us. Yet this may occur to us as individuals. You, dear
brother or sister, if you lose your first love, may soon lose your joy,
your peace, your usefulness. You, who are now so bright, may grow dull.
You, who are now so useful, may become useless. You were once an
instructor of the foolish, and a teacher of babes; but if the Lord be
withdrawn you will instruct nobody, you will be in the dark yourself.
Alas! you may come to lose the very name of Christians, as some have
done who once seemed to be burning and shining lights. They were
foolish virgins, and ere long they were heard to cry, "Our lamps are
gone out!" The Lord can and will take away the candlestick out of its
place if we put him out of his place by a failure in our love to him.
How can I persuade you, then, better than with the warning words of my
Master? My beloved, I persuade you from my very soul not to encounter
these dangers, not to run these terrible risks; for as you would not
wish to see either the church or your own self left without the light
of God, to pine in darkness, it is needful that you abide in Christ,
and go on to love him more and more.
The Saviour holds out a promise as his other persuasive. Upon this I
can only dwell for a minute. It seems a very wonderful promise to me:
"To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the tree of life, which
is in the midst of the paradise of God." Observe, those who lose their
first love fall, but those who abide in love are made to stand. In
contrast to the fall which took place in the paradise of God, we have
man eating of the tree of life, and so living for ever. If we, through
grace, overcome the common tendency to decline in love, then shall we
be confirmed and settled in the favour of the Lord. By eating of the
tree of knowledge of good and evil we fell; by eating of the fruit of a
better tree we live and stand fast for ever. Life proved true by love
shall be nourished on the best of food: it shall be sustained by fruit
from the garden of the Lord himself, gathered by the Saviour's own
hand.
Note again, those who lose their first love wander far, they depart
from God. "But," saith the Lord, "if you keep your first love you shall
not wander, but you shall come into closer fellowship. I will bring you
nearer to the centre. I will bring you to eat of the tree of life which
is in the midst of the paradise of God." The inner ring is for those
who grow in love; the centre of all joy is only to be reached by much
love. We know God as we love God. We enter into his paradise as we
abide in his love. What joy is here! What a reward hath love!
Then notice the mystical blessing which lies here, waiting for
meditation. Do you know how we fell? The woman took of the fruit of the
forbidden tree, and gave to Adam, and Adam ate and fell. The reverse is
the case in the promise before us: the Second Adam takes of the divine
fruit from the tree of promise, and hands it to his spouse; she eats
and lives for ever. He who is the Father of the age of grace hands down
to us immortal joys, which he has plucked from an unwithering tree. The
reward of love is to eat the fruit of life. "We are getting into
mysteries," says one. Yes, I am intentionally lifting a corner of the
veil, and no more. I only mean to give you a glimpse at the promised
boon. Into his innermost joys our Lord will bring us if we keep up our
first love, and go from strength to strength therein. Marvelous things
are locked up in the caskets whereof love holds the key. Sin set the
angel with a flaming sword between us and the tree of life in the midst
of the garden; but love has quenched that sword, and now the angel
beckons us to come into the innermost secrets of paradise. We shall
know as we are known when we love as we are loved. We shall live the
life of God when we are wholly taken up with the love of God. The love
of Jesus answered by our love to Jesus makes the sweetest music the
heart can know. No joy on earth is equal to the bliss of being all
taken up with love to Christ. If I had my choice of all the lives that
I could live, I certainly would not choose to be an emperor, nor to be
a millionaire, nor to be a philosopher; for power, and wealth, and
knowledge bring with them sorrow and travail; but I would choose to
have nothing to do but to love my Lord Jesus–nothing, I mean, but to
do all things for his sake, and out of love to him. Then I know that I
should be in paradise, yea, in the midst of the paradise of God, and I
should have meat to eat which is all unknown to men of the world.
Heaven on earth is abounding love to Jesus. This is the first and last
of true delight–to love him who is the first and the last. To love
Jesus is another name for paradise. Lord, let me know this by continual
experience. "You are soaring aloft," cries one. Yes, I own it. Oh that
I could allure you to a heavenward flight upon wings of love! There is
bitterness in declining love: it is a very consumption of the soul, and
makes us weak, and faint, and low. But true love is the antepast of
glory. See the heights, the glittering heights, the glorious heights,
the everlasting hills to which the Lord of life will conduct all those
who are faithful to him through the power of his Holy Spirit. See, O
love, thine ultimate abode! I pray that what I have said may be blessed
by the Holy Spirit to the bringing of us all nearer to the Bridegroom
of our souls. Amen.
PORTIONS OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON–Revelation 1; 2:1-7.
HYMNS FROM "OUR OWN HYMN BOOK"–425, 797, 804.