Concerning Prayer
INTENDED FOR READING ON LORD'S DAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1888,
BY C. H. SPURGEON,
AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON, ON THURSDAY EVENING, AUGUST
23, 1888.
"Give ear, O Lord, unto my prayer and attend to the voice of my
supplications. In the day of my trouble I will call upon You: for You
will answer me." Psalm 86:6, 7.
WHEN I was reading this eighty-sixth Psalm, I reminded you that the
title of it is "A prayer of David." It is rightly named "A prayer," for
it is very especially filled with supplication. There are four other
Psalms each called by the name Tephillah, or "prayer," but this
deserves to be distinguished from the rest and known as "the prayer of
David," even as the ninetieth Psalm is known as "the prayer of Moses."
It savors of David. The man of sincerity, of ardor, of trials, of
faults and of great heart, pleads, sobs and trusts through all the
verses of this Psalm.
Note one thing about this remarkable prayer of David–it is almost
entirely devoid of poetry. Men use grand, studied, rapturous and
poetical expressions in their praises. And they do well. Let God be
praised with the noblest thoughts as well as the most charming music.
But when a man comes to prayer–and that prayer is out of the depths of
sorrow– he has no time or thought for poetry. He goes straight at the
matter in hand and pleads with God in downright plainness of speech.
You shall notice that in happy prayers, in times of joy, men use
similes and metaphors and tropes and symbols and the like. But when it
comes to wrestling with God in times of agony–there is no beauty of
speech–parable and prose are laid aside.
The man's language is in sackcloth and ashes. Or, better still, it
stands stripped for wrestling, every superfluous word being laid aside.
Then the cry is heard, "I will not let You go, except You bless me."
That is not poetry, but it is a great deal better. Throughout this
Psalm David is a plain-dealer, speaking with God in downright earnest.
He has got his grip of the Covenant angel and he will not let him go.
Men cannot study where to put their feet prettily when they are
wres-tling–they have to do the best they can to hold their ground and
fling their antagonist. In such a prayer-Psalm as this there is no
studying of language–it is the pouring out of the heart as the heart
boils over–the utterance of the desires as they bubble up from the
sod's deeps with an entire carelessness as to the fashion of the
expression.
This ought to be a hint to you when you pray. Do not study how to
arrange your words when you come before the Lord. Leave the expression
to the occasion–it shall be given you in the same hour what you shall
speak. When your heart is like a boiling geyser, let it steam aloft in
pillars of prayer. The overflowing of the soul is the best praying in
the world. Prayers that are indistinct, inharmonious, broken, made up
of sighs and cries and damped with tears–these are the prayers which
win with Heaven. Prayers that you cannot pray, pleadings too big for
utterance–prayers that stagger the words and break their backs and
crush them down–these are the very best prayers that God ever hears.
So you say, dear Friends, that you cannot pray. You are so troubled
that you cannot speak. Well, then, copy the beggars in the street. They
must not beg, for that is contrary to law. But a man sits down and
writes on a spade, "I am starving," and he looks as white as a sheet.
What a picture of misery! He is not begging. Not he. But the money
comes dropping into the old hat. So, when you cannot pray, I believe
that your silent display of utter inability is the best sort of
praying. The blessing comes when we sit down before the Lord and in
sheer desperation expose our spiritual need. I am not going to dwell
longer upon that matter but will simply show you what was the nature of
David's prayer.
There are two things which David must have when he prays–two great
things after which he strains with his whole heart. The first is
personal dealings with God. Read that sixth verse–"Give ear, O Lord,
unto my prayer. And attend to the voice of my supplications." And, in
the second place he must have personal answers from God. He is not
content to
pray without prayer having some practical result. So, the seventh verse
is, "In the day of my trouble I will call upon You: for You will
answer."
I. First, then, David in his prayer sought, beyond all things, to have
PERSONAL DEALINGS WITH GOD. To my mind that is the distinction between
prayer before conversion and prayer after it. I often bring that out
when I am seeing enquirers who have been religiously brought up. This
is the sort of dialogue we hold–"You used to pray, did you?" "Yes,
Sir. I could not have gone to sleep if I had not said my prayers." "Was
there any difference between that kind of praying and what you now
practice?" The reply usually is, "Well, Sir, I do not now call the
first, praying, at all. I used to say some good words that I had been
taught but I did not say them to anybody. Now I speak to God and I have
the feeling that He is hearing what I say and that He is present with
me in my room."
It is the realization of that second Person as really present, the
consciousness of the Divine Presence, which makes prayer real. What can
be the good of going through a form of prayer? Can there be any charm
in a set of sentences? If you are not speaking to God, what are you
doing? I should say that a prayer would do as much good repeated
backwards as forwards, if it is not spoken to God. We have heard of
instances of grown persons keeping on saying the prayer which their
mother taught them and asking that God would bless their father and
mother, after they had been dead twenty years. All sorts of
absurdities, I do not doubt, have come from the long-continued and
thoughtless repetition of mere words.
I am not now speaking against the use of a form of prayer if you feel
that you can pray with it. But the point is that you must be speaking
to God, and you must have personal dealings with the Invisible One, or
else there is nothing whatever in your prayer, whether it be composed
on the spot, or repeated from memory. Note well that David, while he
thus sought to have dealings with God–to come to close grips with the
Lord in the act of prayer–was not presumptuously bold. He perceives
the condescension of such fellowship on God's part. This may be seen in
the Psalm.
If you have the Psalm open before you, kindly begin with the first
line–"Bow down Your ear, O Lord, hear me." As if he said, "You are so
high that unless You shall stoop and stoop very low, You can not
commune with me. But, Lord, do thus stoop. Bow down Your ear. From Your
lofty Throne, higher than an angel's wing can reach, stoop down and
listen to me–poor, feeble me." This is what we must have in order to
true prayer. Our prayer must climb to that great ear which hears the
symphonies of the perfected and the hallelujahs of cherubim and
seraphim.
Is there not something very wonderful about this, that we–who are both
insignificant and unworthy–should be able to speak to Him who made the
stars and upholds all things by the Word of His power? Yet this is the
essence of prayer–to rise in human feebleness to talk with Divine
Omnipotence. In nothingness to deal with All-Sufficiency. You cannot
venture upon this without the Mediator, Christ. But with the Mediator,
what a wonderful fellowship a worm of the dust is permitted to enjoy
with the infinite God! What condescension there is in a sinner
communing with the thrice-holy Jehovah, Seek after this communion.
Nothing can excel it.
As you further read in this Psalm you will notice that David, in order
to obtain this high privilege, pleads his need of it. He cries, "I am
poor and needy"–as much as to say, "Lord, come to me, let me have
personal conversation with You, for nothing else will serve my turn. I
am so poor that You alone can enrich me. I am so feeble, that You alone
can sustain me. You have made me–Lord, forsake not the work of Your
own hands! I, Your child, am full of wants, which You, only, can
supply. Oh, deal with me in great compassion!" Virtually his plea is–
"Do not turn a way Your face, Mine's an urgent, pressing case." Now, is
not this very encouraging–that your claim upon God should lie in your
need? You cannot say to God, "Lord, look at me and commune with me, for
I am somebody'" But you may say, "Lord, commune with me, for I am
nobody'" You may not cry, "Lord, help me, for I can do much." But you
may cry, "Lord help me, for I can do nothing." Your need is your most
prevalent plea with God. When you are desiring to pray such a prayer as
consists in closeness with God, it is great condescension on His part
to draw near to you. But He will condescend to your needs and come
near–because your misery needs His Presence. God will not condescend
to your pride but He will bow His ear to your grief.
If you set up a claim to merit, He will turn His back upon you. But if
you come to Him with a claim of necessity, which is merely a beggar's
claim when he asks for alms–an appeal to the charity of God's
sovereign love–then He will
turn about and hear your prayer. Come, my Heart, are you not encouraged
to come near to God, seeing He has respect to your low estate and
pities your sorrows? Read on and you will find that David, in order to
come into dealings with God, next pleads his personal
consecration–"Preserve my soul. For I am holy."
By this I understand him to mean that he belongs to God. That he is
consecrated and dedicated to the Divine service. Should not the priest
handle the golden bowl? Should not the priest enter into the holy
place? And should not God, therefore, come and deal with the man who is
dedicated to His use and set apart to His service? My dear Brothers and
Sisters, can you say tonight that you live for God? Do you recognize
that you are not your own but bought with a price? Well, there dwells
an argument in that fact–a reason why the Lord God should come and
take hold of you and link Himself with you. You are the vessels of His
sanctuary, you are the instruments of His Divine service, you are
consecrated to His honor and you may expect Him therefore, to touch you
with His hand, to employ you in His work and to identify Himself with
you in your circumstances and necessities.
Moreover, David, anxious to use every argument, pleads his trust–"Save
Your servant that trusts in You." This is a conquering plea–"Lord, my
sole reliance is on You. Come to me, then, and justify the confidence
which You Yourself have inspired." "Without faith it is impossible to
please God." But when God has given us faith, then we may be quite sure
that we do please Him. And if we please Him, then, like Enoch, who
pleased Him, we shall walk with Him. You may expect, in prayer, to find
God drawing near to you if in very deed you are holding to Him as the
one ground of your confidence. Brethren, are you sure that you trust in
God? You answer, "Yes." Ah, then let me say to you that you shall have
a reward and that reward will probably be that you will be taught to
trust Him more.
That you may rise to a larger faith you will probably suffer greater
troubles than you have up to now known. The reward of service is more
service. A good soldier, who has fought through many battles and won
many victories, shall be sent out to the wars next time his master's
forces want a captain. You, having already trusted, shall have your
faith further tried in order that you may glorify God and so arrive at
a greater faith. Do you not see that faith largely lies in the
realization that God is and that God is near? And if you so realize God
when you bow the knee in prayer you may expect to have sweet closeness
with Him.
Many years ago I trusted God about many things and I found Him true.
But of late I have had to take a step in advance and trust God wholly
and alone in the teeth of all appearances. I have been called almost
literally to stand alone in contending against error. And in this I
have distinctly taken a nearer place in prayer with the God whom I
serve in my spirit. It is very well to rest on God when you have other
props but it is best of all to rest on Him when every prop is knocked
away. To hang onto the bare arm of God is glorious dependence. And he
that has once done it cannot think of ever going back to trust in men
again.
"No," says he, "I tried man once and he failed me. I had you with me
and I trusted God in you. But now that you have turned from me, I will
trust God alone without you–even though you now come back to the man
you deserted." Dependence upon the Lord creates a glorious independence
of man. Verily, it is true, "Cursed is the man that trusts in man and
makes flesh his arm." But verily, verily, it is true, "Blessed is the
man that trusts in the Lord and whose hope is the Lord." Part of that
blessedness will be found in the communion which such a man enjoys with
God whenever he approaches Him in prayer.
Still, following the same line, notice that David pleads for God's
Presence because he is God's servant. He says here, "Save Your
servant." A servant has liberty to enquire as to his master's will and
he is justified in asking to see his Lord. If he is employed upon his
master's business, he says, "I want orders. I wish to tell my master my
difficulties and to seek from him a supply for those necessities which
his service will bring upon me." You feel that he has a good and
sufficient plea when he urges this request. Even so, if you can
honestly feel that you are spending your strength in the Lord's
service, you, also, may lawfully expect that when you draw near to Him
in prayer your Master will speak to you as His servant and He that has
sent you will commune with you.
David urges yet another reason why just now he should see God, namely
that he is always in prayer–"I cry unto you daily." The Lord will hear
your prayer, my dear Hearer, tonight, if you never prayed before–I am
quite sure of it. But I am still more sure that if you have been long
in the habit of prayer, it is not possible that the Father of Mercies
should cease to hear you. Oh, the sweet delights of constancy in
prayer! The habit of prayer is charming–but the spirit of
prayer is heavenly. Be always praying. Is that possible? Some have
realized it, till the whole of the engagements of the day have been
ablaze with prayer. God bring us each one into that condition!
Then we need not barely hope that He will have communion with us, for
we shall be already enjoying His Presence and His fellowship. Blessed
are we when prayer surrounds us like an fog. Then we are living in the
Presence of God. We are continually conversing with Him. May such be
our lot! May we climb to the top of the mount of communion and may we
never come down from it!
David also tells the Lord that when he could not attain to the nearness
he desired, yet he struggled after it and strained after it. Is not
this the meaning of the expression, "Rejoice the soul of Your servant,
for unto You, O Lord, do I lift up my soul"? As much as if he said,
"Lord, when I cannot climb the hill of fellowship, I labor to do so. If
I cannot enter into Your Presence, I groan until I do so." We ought
either to be rejoicing in the Lord, or pining after Him! Ask God to
make you miserable unless His conscious Presence makes you happy.
Unless His love is shed abroad in your heart to be the beginning of
Heaven, may you mourn His absence as a very Hell to your soul! Often I
pray–
"Oh, make my heart rejoice, or ache;
Resolve each doubt for me–
Lord, if it be not broken, break;
And heal it if it be."
We want one of the two–either to commune with God, or else to sigh and
cry till we do so. We must hunger and thirst after righteousness if we
are not filled. To be in a state of content without fellowship with God
would be a terrible condition, indeed.
Now, when a man's daily cries and inward strivings are after God, he
may certainly expect that God in prayer will have sweet communion with
him. But again, I ask, does it not seem extraordinary that you and I,
insignificant persons, who can have no claim upon the great Maker of
the universe, should yet be permitted to come to His courts? Yes, even
to come to Himself through Christ Jesus and speak with Him as a man
speaks with his friend? Do not think that Abraham, when he stood before
the Lord and pleaded with Him, as one man does with another, was
singularly favored above the rest of the elect family. It was a high
favor, I cannot tell you how great. But such honor have I the saints.
There are occasions with all His people when the Lord brings them very
near and speaks with them and they with Him–when His Presence is to
them as real as the all-pervading air and they are as much rejoiced in
it as in the presence of father, or wife, or child, or friend.
Still, David, conscious of the great privilege which he sought, was not
content without pleading the master argument of all–he pleads the
great goodness of the Lord. Read it in verse five–"For You, Lord, are
good." As much as to say–If You were not good You would never listen
to me. I am, as it were, a noxious insect which a man might far sooner
crush than speak with. And yet You are so good, my God, that instead of
stepping on me, You lift me up and talk with me. Who thinks of an angel
talking with an ant? That would be nothing.
Here is Jehovah speaking with a creature which is crushed before the
moth. "The secret of the Lord is with them that fear Him. And He will
show them His Covenant." He lets an unworthy creature spill out its
heart to Him and He bows his ear and listens as earnestly as if there
were no other voice in Heaven to command His thought. He gives His
whole attention to the feeble cry of an unworthy one. Such an amazing
fact could not happen unless it were written, "For You, Lord, are
good."
Ah, but besides that, there is sin in us. I can understand the great
God forgetting our littleness and bowing down to it. But for the holy
God not to be held off by our sinfulness–this is a greater wonder
still. But then the verse says, He is "ready to forgive." Ah, yes! When
some of us think of what we were, we must be drowned in amazement that
ever we should be permitted to commune with God. Yonder is a man who
could once swear at an awful rate and now God listens to his voice in
prayer! Another was a Sabbath-breaker, a neglecter of the Word of God,
a despiser of every holy and pure thing and yet he is now permitted to
come into intimate friendship with the Most High. It is very marvelous,
is it not?
Remember, none ever washed Christ's feet except a woman that was a
sinner. Our Lord selects those that have been the greatest sinners to
come into the nearest communion with Himself. It may be He has raised
up some Sister here–who was once a tempter of others–to become a
mighty intercessor in prayer for the salvation of others. It may be
that some Brother here, who once was–ah, but he is ashamed to remember
what he was–has now become mighty in supplica-
tion–and, like Elijah, can open or shut the windows of Heaven. Oh, the
strangeness of Almighty Grace! Let God's name be magnified forever and
ever!
Thus I have enlarged on the first thought–that in prayer it is vital
to us really to speak with God. Before I leave it, I want to pass a
question round the place. Do you, my dear Hearers, all pray so as to
speak with God? If not, what does it mean? If you merely repeat good
words, what is the use of it? You might as well stand on a hill and
talk to the moon as kneel down and hurry through the Lord's Prayer and
then think that you have prayed. I tell you, you might better do the
first than the second, for you would not insult God in that
case–whereas you do insult Him in every one of those holy words which
you use without thought, heart and faith.
Think how you would like your own child every morning to come to you
and repeat a certain set of words without meaning anything thereby. You
would say, "There, child, there, I have heard that often enough. Come
to me no more with your empty noise." You would not care for vain
repetitions. But when your boy or girl says, "Father, I need such a
thing, please give it me," you hearken to the child's words. It may be
that you have not enough of this world's goods to be very anxious that
your children should come with large petitions. But if you were
sufficiently rich, you would say, "That is right, dear child. Is there
anything else you want? Tell me what it is. I will right gladly give
you all things that are needful for you."
You would wish your child's request to be an intelligent one and then
you would gladly attend to it. If your prayer does not come from your
heart it will not go to God's heart. And if it does not bring you near
to God so that you are speaking to Him, you have simply wasted your
breath. You have done worse than nothing, for in all likelihood you
have daubed your conscience over with the notion that you have prayed
and so you have even done yourself serious harm by a flattering deceit.
Oh, that God would save you from being so foolish!
II. And now I come to the second point and I pray God to give me
strength to speak upon it and give you Divine Grace to hear it. Not at
any great length but with much earnestness I have to remind you that
David, in his prayer, desired PERSONAL ANSWERS FROM GOD. When we pray,
we expect God to hear us, even as David says, "In the day of my trouble
I will call upon You: for You will answer me."
I must not speak for all Christians in this matter. But I may speak for
myself and for many dear Brethren in the faith–and I must boldly say
that we expect the Lord to hear our prayers. No, we are sure that He
does so. We hear our fellow Christians say, when we tell them of
instances in which God has heard our prayers, "How very extraordinary!"
And we look at them and say, "Extraordinary?" Has it become an
extraordinary thing for God to be true to His own Promise? I like
better the remark of the good old lady, who, when her prayer was
answered, was asked, "Does it not surprise you?" She said, "No, it does
not surprise me. It is just like Him."
If anyone of you had a promise from a friend that, upon your sending in
a note, he would give you such-and-such a thing–if you sent the
request and he fulfilled his promise, would you say, "I am greatly
surprised at his action"? No, no–you believe that your friend means
what he says and you look for him to keep his word. O child of God,
deal with God on those terms. The wonder was that He should make the
promise at all! But when He has made the promise, it is not wonderful
that He should keep it–He expects you to ask and He waits to give.
A promise is like a check. If I have a check, what do I do with it?
Suppose I carried it about in my pocket and said, "I do not see the use
of this bit of paper, I cannot buy anything with it," a person would
say, "Have you been to the bank with it?" "No, I did not think of
that." "But it is payable to your order. Have you written your name on
the back of it?" "No, I have not done that." "And yet you are blaming
the person who gave you the check? The whole blame lies with yourself.
Put your name on the back of the check, go with it to the bank and you
will get what is promised to you."
A prayer should be the presentation of God's promise endorsed by your
personal faith. I hear of people praying for an hour together. I am
very pleased that they can. But it is seldom that I can do so and I see
no need for it. It is like a person going into a bank with a check and
stopping an hour. The clerks would wonder. The common sense way is to
go to the counter and show your check and take your money and go about
your business. There is a style of prayer which is of this fine
practical character. You so believe in God that you present the
promise, obtain the blessing and go about your Master's business.
Sometimes a flood of words only means excusing unbelief. The prayers of
the Bible are nearly all short ones–they are short and strong. The
exceptions are found in places of peculiar difficulty, like that of
Jacob, when he cried–
"With you all night I mean to stay, And wrestle till the break of day."
As a general rule, faith presents its prayer, gets its answer and goes
on its way rejoicing.
We expect our God to answer our prayer all the more surely when we are
in trouble. David so expected–"In the day of my trouble I will call
upon You: for You will answer me." Trouble is sent to make us pray.
When we pray, the prayer becomes the solace of our trouble. And when
the prayer is heard, it becomes the salvation out of our trouble. Many
of you would be out of trouble quickly if you prayed. "Sir, I have been
doing my best." And what is your best? A better thing than your best is
to wait upon the Lord. Often and often trial has to rap our fingers to
make us let go our harmful confidences and turn to the Lord. With our
vain-confidence we are like a madman with a razor–the more we grasp
it, the more it cuts us.
Drop the deadly self-trust–trust in God and look to Him and your
deliverance will speedily come to you. If you should have no answer at
any other time, you will assuredly be heard in the time of trouble if
you trust in the Lord. Now, if we expect God to answer us, we do so on
very good grounds. There are certain natural reasons. I was turning
over in my mind the question, "Why do I pray? Why have I any reason to
believe that God hears me?" And I thought to myself," Well, on natural
grounds I have a right to believe that God will hear prayer, or
otherwise why is prayer commanded?" The Scripture is full of prayer. It
is an institution of the old Covenant, as well as of the new and yet it
is a piece of folly if God does not hear it.
"Oh," says somebody, "but it does you good to pray, even though there
may be no such a thing as God's hearing prayer." It might do an idiot
good to pray when he knew there was no hearing of prayer on God's part.
But not being an idiot myself, I could not perform such a stupid
exercise. I would as soon sit on a five-barred gate and whistle to the
hills as offer prayer if I did not hope to be heard. If there is no God
that hears prayer, I shall not pray–nor will any other rational being.
Show prayer to be unheard of God and you have shown it to be a folly.
Show prayer to be a folly and who will pursue it? Does God invite us to
pray? Does He command us to pray? Are there many injunctions of this
kind– "Men ought always to pray and not to faint"? "Pray without
ceasing," and so on?
Then prayer must be heard of God. How would it be with you if you said
to a number of poor people, "Come round to my gate tomorrow and I will
relieve your distresses"? Would you not intend to relieve their
distresses when you said so? I cannot imagine that you would be so
diabolical as to keep on saying, "Come to my house. Whenever you are
hungry, come to my table. Whenever you need clothes, come to my door
and ask." All the while saying to yourself, "But I do not intend to
give you anything. You may come and ring the bell as long as you like.
It will be fine exercise for you but I shall take no notice of your
appeals."
It would be a most shocking and disgraceful mockery of misery. God will
not serve us in that fashion. The very institution of prayer gives us
the assurance that God intends to hear and to answer.
Observe, again, that prayer has been universal among all the saints.
There have been saints of different molds and temperaments but they
have all prayed. Some of them have been, like Heman and Asaph, masters
of song and they have prayed. Others could not sing but they have all
prayed. Today you may meet with all sorts of Christians, holding many
kinds of doctrines–but they all pray. And what is most curious, they
all pray alike, too. You can scarcely detect a difference when they
pray–
"The saints in prayer appear as one, In word and deed and mind."
A man may preach doctrine contrary to the Grace of God. But get him on
his knees and he prays to God for Divine Grace, as heartily as John
Calvin himself. We are one at the Mercy Seat. Whatever doctrinal views
we may hold–when we plead with the living God, in the power of the
Holy Spirit–we are poured into one mold. How is this? If, all the ages
through, saints have prayed, have they all been fools? Have they all
exercised themselves in a way that was utterly useless and absurd? Do
not believe it!
Note again, that the more godly and holy a man is, the more he prays.
You never heard yet that a man began to backslide, or that a sober man
became a drunkard through praying too much. Did you ever hear of a
person becoming unkind to his wife, ungenerous to the poor, negligent
of public worship, or guilty of grievous sin through being too much in
prayer? No. The case is the reverse. As the man loves God more and
becomes more like Christ, he takes greater
delight in prayer. That cannot be an idle and useless exercise which
the best of men have followed under the guidance of the Holy Spirit.
If there is a possibility of error, we err in the best of company–for
yonder comes the Lord Jesus Himself from His lonely haunt with the
burrs of the heather from the mountainside sticking to His garments. He
has spent all night in agonizing prayer. He will not open His mouth to
preach to the multitude till first of all He has received a new
anointing from His Father's hand in secret fellowship with Heaven. Our
Master and His best disciples have abounded in prayer.
Well, dear Friends, these are natural reasons. And there are a great
many more, if you will think them out. But, if you turn to Scriptural
reasons, why was there a Mercy Seat if there is nothing in prayer? Why
does the Throne of Grace still remain as a permanent institution, of
which Paul says, "Let us come boldly to the Throne of Grace," unless
there is a reality in it? Tell me, why is Christ the way to the Mercy
Seat? Why is He Himself the great Intercessor and Mediator if there is
nothing in prayer? The Holy Spirit helps our infirmities in
prayer–surely there must be something effectual where He lends His
aid.
What? Is He, after all, helping us to do a thing which produces no
result?–helping us to present petitions which will never reach the ear
of God? Tell that to the philosophers. We are not so credulous. Once
more–we know that God hears prayer because we have met with multitudes
of His people who can tell of answers to prayer. What is more, we are
ourselves among that number. Looking back on my diary, I find it
studded with answers to prayer. Often when I have talked with friends
of an evening, telling them a few cases in which God has heard my cries
in time of need, they have said, "Have you written these down?" "Well,
no, I cannot say that I have." "Oh," says one, "pray do not let such
facts be lost."
I have to reply that many cases of answered prayer are quite beyond the
belief of average people. I know them to be true but I do not expect
others to believe my tale. When William Huntington wrote his "Bank of
Faith" some people called it a "Bank of Nonsense." I could write twenty
"Banks of Faith" and every word should be as sure as an honest man
could write. But the only result would be that people would say, "Oh,
well, you know that is the result of the good man's fanaticism." The
moment that the moderns do not like to believe a thing they call it
fanatical. If we were put into a witness-box tomorrow, our testimony
would have weight with the court. But yet, the moment we talk about
God's hearing prayer–oh, then we are romancing, and our witness is not
to be received.
But, Brothers and Sisters, we bear a true witness–whether men receive
it or not. I solemnly declare that no fact is better proved by my
experience than this–that the Lord hears the prayers of His believing
people. You, each one, will know for himself, or herself, whether there
is a God that hears prayer. Does He answer your petitions? Brethren,
you are sure that He does and at the asking of the question you bow
your heads and say, "Blessed be the name of the Lord." My dear Brother,
William Olney, sits here among us–have we not prayed him twice back
from the gates of the grave? He lives as an instance of answered
prayer. There is not a stone or a beam about this great Tabernacle but
has been an answer to our prayers.
In days when, as a congregation, we were few and feeble, we ventured on
the serious enterprise of building this great house and we prayed it up
stone by stone, to the praise and glory of God. If we who worship
beneath this dome did not believe in prayer, the stones out of the
walls would cry out against us.
But I hear a voice saying, "There are so many difficulties about prayer
being heard." Are there? The farther I go in this life, the more
difficulties I am informed of, though I should not have discovered them
myself. I am assured that there are great difficulties about eating,
breathing and sleeping. As to the very air, I do not know what it is
not full of–it teems with the seeds of disease and the wonder is that
we live at all. But we do live, do we not? And we shall eat our suppers
tonight despite the difficulties in connection with food.
As to the difficulties connected with prayer, they are altogether
philosophical difficulties and by no means practical ones. If you are
philosophers, you may weary your heads about them. But if you are
simple, practical people, you may pray and receive the blessing. "Yes
but the power of prayer with God supposes that God may change." Well,
our doing anything supposes that, but it is a mere supposition. Your
even walking home tonight might raise a difficulty as to the decrees of
God. But it is a non-existent difficulty. After you have entertained it
as long as you like, you will find that you have entertained a shadow.
Suppose that you leave off supposing and just do as God tells you and
see whether it does not work. When you find that it does practically
work, let other people enjoy the difficulties. I do not eat meat. But
if I did, I should always feel quite satisfied to let my dogs have the
bones–the meat would satisfy me. If there are any difficulties about
prayer, the dogs may have them–I mean the philosophers. But as for us
simple Christian people–we are satisfied with the meat of the precious
fact that prayer brings every blessing from above. We pray and God
hears us and that is enough for us. Our God does not change His will,
and yet He wills a change in answer to prayer.
I have done when I have made this further remark. I cannot expect any
man to believe that he can commune with God, or that God will, in very
deed, hear his prayer and grant him his desire, unless he has been led
personally to try it. But if, by the Spirit of God, he has been led to
seek after God and to draw near to God, I shall have no need of further
arguments with him. That man has now entered upon a new life in which
he will be capable of understanding new things. Until he does enter
upon that life, he is spiritually deaf and blind. And what can he know
about spiritual realities?
Our Lord has said to us, "You must be born again." When we are born
again, the life within turns toward the life of God and has fellowship
with God and God answers it and the desire of the godly one is granted.
Oh, the honor of communion with God! Happy beings who enjoy it! How
unspeakable the privilege of pouring out your hearts before God!
Delight yourselves therein before you fall asleep this night. Oh, the
holy quietude which it brings! You have not an ounce of care to carry
because all your burden is in prayer and supplication–laid on Him that
cares for you!
Oh, the love that dwells in the heart of the man who draws near to God
in prayer! You cannot love God at a distance. You must draw nearer and
nearer, or love will not rest. As when one comes into the sunshine, he
feels the warmth, so when we come nearer to God we have more joy in
Him. Keep near to God. Abound in prayer. Let your supplications be
instant and constant, and you will be sure that the Father Himself
hears your cries!
Oh, that some here who never prayed would begin at once! Trust in
Jesus, the Intercessor, and let that trust show itself by pleading the
merit of His blood in earnest prayer. Oh, that you would now begin that
holy life of prayer which shall lead up to the eternal life of praise
at the right hand of God. Amen.
On the wing, November 19, 1888. DEAR FRIENDS–After reading this sermon
carefully, I add these words. In all my sickness, weakness, conflict
and pain, the prayer-hearing God has been with me and not one word of
His promise has failed. Blessed be His name! And now I am sufficiently
recovered to begin my journey to the place where I take rest and
change. I go beneath a canopy of prayers. Will the reader join in
asking that for the sake of my work I may soon recover strength and
return to my field of service? I have more confidence in prayer than in
the balmy air and the rest–means are only good when the God of Means
makes them so. I leave my heart with dear ones at home and with my
congregation of hearers and readers. The Lord be with you! Yours
heartily, C. H. SPURGEON.