Startling!
(No. 2828)
A SERMON INTENDED FOR READING ON LORD'S-DAY, APRIL 26, 1903.
DELIVERED BY C. H. SPURGEON,
AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON, ON THE LORD'S-DAY EVENING,
IN THE SUMMER OF 1861.
"And Hazael said, Why does my lord weep? And he answered, Because I
know the evil that you will do unto the children of Israel…And Hazael
said, But what, is your servant a dog, that he should do this great
thing?" 2 Kings 8:12,13.
I SUPPOSE that none of us can doubt that Hazael acted with perfect
freedom when he became the murderer of his master. Surely no one would
dare to suggest that any constraint was put upon him. The glittering
prospect of wearing the crown of Syria was before his eyes. Nothing
stood between him and the kingdom but the life of his master. That
master lies sick of a fever. A wet cloth is the usual remedy. He has
but to select one that shall be thicker than usual and take care, in
spreading it over his face, to place it so that the man is suffocated,
and, lo, Hazael comes to the throne! What wonder is it that Hazael
easily puts his master out of the way and then mounts the vacant seat?
None of us will imagine for a moment that he was under constraint
unless it was Satanic and yet, while he acted as a free agent, is it
not quite clear that God foreknew what he would do and that it was
perfectly certain that he would destroy his master? The Prophet speaks
not as one who hazarded a conjecture. He foresaw the event with
absolute certainty, yet did Hazael act with perfect freedom when he
went and fulfilled the prophecy of Elisha.
I believe, my Brothers and Sisters, that it is quite as easy to see how
God's predestination and man's responsibility are perfectly compatible,
as it is to see how Divine foreknowledge and human free agency are
consistent with one another. Does not the very fact of foreknowledge
imply a certainty? Is not that which is foreknown certain? Is not the
fact sure to be when God foreknows that it will be? How could it be
foreknown conditionally? How could it be foretold conditionally? In
this instance, there was no stipulation or contingency whatever. It was
absolutely foretold that Hazael would be king of Syria. The Prophet
knew the fact right well and he clearly descried the means–otherwise
why should he look into Hazael's face and weep? God foreknew the
mischief that he would do when he came to the throne, yet that
foreknowledge did not in the least degree interfere with his free
agency.
Nor is this an isolated and exceptional case. The facts most surely
believed among us, like the Doctrines most clearly revealed to us,
point all of them to the same inference. The predestination of God does
not destroy the free agency of man, or lighten the responsibility of
the sinner. It is true, in the matter of salvation, when God comes to
save, his Free Grace prevails over our free agency and leads the will
in glorious captivity to the obedience of faith. But in sinning, man is
free–free in the widest sense of the term, never being compelled to do
any evil deed, but being left to follow the turbulent passions of his
own corrupt heart–and carry out the prevailing tendencies of his own
depraved nature. In reference to this matter of predestination and free
will, I have often heard men ask, "How do you make them agree?" I think
there is another question just as difficult to solve, "How can you make
them differ?" The two may be as easily made to concur as to clash. It
seems to me a problem which cannot be stated, and a subject that needs
no solution. It is but a difficulty which we surmise–and theoretical
dilemmas are always hard to deal with and difficult to disentangle.
When we look at matters of fact, the mist that clouds our understanding
vanishes. We see God predestinating and man premeditating–God knowing
fully, yet man acting freely–God ordaining every circumstance, yet man
maneuvering to compass his own projects. In short, we see man
accurately, but unconsciously, fulfilling all which was written in the
wisdom of God and that without any impetus of the Almighty upon his
mind constraining or inciting him to do so.
You will observe, in this chapter, three or four distinct instances in
which both the foreknowledge and foreordination of God are distinctly
proven and yet, at the same time, the free agency of the creature is
conspicuously set forth. That point, however, I have merely adverted to
by way of introduction. My subject, on this occasion, as more
immediately suggested by the words before us, is the common and too
often fatal ignorance of men as to the wickedness of their own hearts.
I. LET US EXPOSE AND EXPOUND THIS IGNORANCE.
Our ignorance of the depravity of our own hearts is a startling fact.
Hazael did not believe that he was bad enough to do any of the things
here anticipated. "Is your servant a dog, that he should do this great
thing?" He might have been conscious enough that his heart was not so
pure but it might consent to do many an evil thing, yet crimes so
flagrant as those the Prophet had foretold of him, he thought himself
quite incapable of committing! He could not believe that such wanton
cruelty lurked in his breast, or that such barbarity towards women and
children could be perpetrated with his sanction. Not yet, perhaps, was
the ambition that aspired to the throne of Syria, or the treachery that
issued in the murder of his master, fully ripe. Ah, my Brothers and
Sisters, the ignorance of Hazael is ours to a greater or lesser degree!
In our natural state, we are oblivious of the depravity of our own
hearts. How commonly we hear men deny that their hearts are depraved!
They tell us that though man is a little injured by the Fall, he is
still a noble creature! His high and glorious instincts make amends
they would persuade us for his low and beggarly vices.
Such foolish conceits we impute to ignorance. Men account crimes
revolting when they hear of their comrades being convicted of
committing them, but they do not know the innate plague of their own
heart. They have not yet learned that their own heart is base and
depraved. Hence they challenge the Doctrine when we state it–because
they are unconscious of the fact. We do not expect a man to accept it
as an axiom merely upon our testimony. He had need have some
experience, himself, before he will be able to lay hold upon a Truth of
God so humbling, so self-abasing as that of total depravity! The
baseness of our hearts has barely dawned on our apprehension, though we
have a faint gleam of suspicion as to our real condition. Conscience is
sensitive enough to let us know that all is not quite right. We feel
that we are not pure, that we are not completely perfect. We admit that
we make some mistakes, though we set them down to weakness rather than
willfulness. We apologize for our infirmities and rather excuse than
accuse our own hearts. Most of us, however, I trust, have enough Light
of God to discern that there was something willfully wrong with our
hearts before the Spirit of Christ began to deal with us. We would
frankly and freely confess that we were not all that we desired to be,
that there was some radical evil that defied our capacity to search it
out. Ah, but how pale was that gleam! It was mere starlight in the
soul–not like the sunlight which has since shone in and shown us the
blackness of our nature!
We were ignorant, then, of the fact that our nature was totally
corrupt. We did not know that it was essentially tainted with iniquity.
We could not have endorsed that saying of the Apostle, "The carnal mind
is enmity against God, and is not subject to the Law of God, neither
indeed can be." We could hardly understand it, when we heard the
Christian minister say that the old nature was positively irreclaimable
and must be crucified with its affections and lusts–and that a new
nature must be given to us. If we ever heard a preacher speak of the
fountains of the great deep of our evil heart being broken up, we
thought he exaggerated. "At least," we said, "surely this might be true
of some notorious criminals, or it might be even alleged of some
ill-bred people who had seen an evil example from their youth up, but
we could not imagine that this was actually the case with ourselves."
Yes, but, my Brothers and Sisters, we were, to a great degree, cured of
this ignorance when the Spirit of God brought us under conviction. Oh,
what a view of ourselves He then gave to some of us! I think we could
say, with Bu-nyan, that we thought the most loathsome toad in the world
to be a better creature than ourselves! We have been led, when under
conviction of sin, to sigh and wish we had been made a viper, or some
reptile that men would tread upon and crush, rather than that we should
have been such base, such vile, Hell-deserving sinners as we felt
ourselves to be. No discourse, then, about human dignity could have
pleased us–it would have been rubbing salt into our wounds to have
told us that man was, by birth, a pure and noble creature! In vain
might they have attempted to persuade us, then, that though we were a
little awry, a diligent pursuit of some orthodox plan or prescription
might easily restore us and lift us up from the position into which we
had been cast by Adam and by our sin. No, we felt that Divine Grace
must make us new–that there must be a supernatural work worked in such
beings as we were–or else, surely, we would never be fit to stand
before the face of God and see Him with joy and greet Him with
acceptance.
Thus, I say, Brothers and Sisters, that much of our ignorance was taken
away, but, alas, how much remained! We did not know, even then, how
depraved we were. When Sinai's lightning was flashing abroad and all
our hearts seemed lit up with its dread fire, that lurid flame was not
bright enough to show us all our baseness! While we stood trembling
there, and the Law of God was thundering over our heads, we bowed to
the very dust–but we did not cower, even then, as we ought to have
done in penitent humiliation. We were rather awed than melted, for we
had only just begun to decipher the black letters of that volume of our
total depravity!
We knew more about our moral obliquity afterwards, when Jesus came to
us and, by His sweet love, bade us be of good cheer, for our sins,
which were many, were all forgiven. Oh, how we saw the baseness of sin
as we had never seen it before, for we now saw it in the light of His
Countenance! The love of His eyes flashed a brighter light into our
hearts than all the lightning of Mount Paran. Horeb's burning steep
never gave us such illuminations as did Calvary's hallowed summit.
Calvary might be the lesser height–it may not have seemed to stand out
with such majesty and awe–but it exerted greater power over us. In its
tender flush of mellow light, our eyes could see more clearly than in
all the fitful flashes that had scared us before. I think we saw, then,
to as full an extent as it was possible for us to bear, how vile, how
desperately evil was our nature! When we perceived how great must be
the Sacrifice which, by its virtue, could atone for sin, how vast that
price of our Redeemer's blood, which only could provide a ransom from
the Fall–then we had lessons, once and for all–taught us, never to be
forgotten! And yet, since then, I think we have learned more of the
evil of our own hearts than we could at first apprehend. We said, then,
"Surely, now I have come into the innermost chamber of iniquity." But
often, since that day, has the Spirit said to us, "Son of man, I will
show you greater abominations than these," and we have been led to see,
in the light of God's continual mercies, His perpetual faithfulness,
His unfailing love–we have been led to view, in that Light, our
continued wanderings, our idolatries of heart, our murmurings, our
pride and our lusts–and we have found ourselves to be worse than we
thought we were!
I appeal to you, Christian men and women, if anyone had told you that
you would have loved your Savior so little as you have done–if any
Prophet had told you, in the hour of your conversion, that you would
have served Christ as feebly as you have done–would you have believed
it? I appeal to you from the dew of your youth, from that morning blush
of your soul's unclouded joy–if an angel from Heaven had said to you,
"You will doubt your God, you will murmur against His Providence, you
will kick at the dispensations of His Grace"–would you not have
replied, "Is your servant a dog, that he should do this evil thing?"
Your experience, I am sure, has taught you that you were not aware,
when you put on your harness, how much of a dastard was the soldier who
then did gird himself for the battle. But mark this, we, none of us,
know, after all, much of the baseness of our hearts! Some of you may
have had more drilling in it than others have had. You may have made
proof of it by sad backsliding. Your lusts may have outwardly betrayed
their inward vigor. You may have been discarded by the Holy Spirit for
a little season that the Lord might show you that you were weak as
other men, that He might prove to you the hollowness of all your
self-confidence and wean you from all trust in your own integrity! But
the most sorely exercised among you have not yet fully learned this
lesson.
Only God knows the vileness of the human heart. There is a depth
beneath, a hidden spring into which we cannot pry. In that lower depth,
there is a still deeper abyss of positive corruption which we need not
wish to fathom. God grant that we may know enough of this to humble us
and keep us always low before Him! Yet hold, Lord, lest we should yield
to despair and absolutely lie down to die under the black thought of
our alienation from righteousness, our naturalization in sin and the
deplorable tendency of our heart to rebel more and more against You,
the faithful and true God! Show us not all our wretchedness! As for the
most of us, who cannot talk of this experience, let us not think
ourselves doctors of divinity–let us sit down at once on the lowest
step of the Divine School. We have only begun to know ourselves in
part, albeit we do know something of the Savior, blessed be His name!
That something is exceedingly precious. Yet how much more there is for
us to learn! We have hardly begun to sail on that unfathomable sea. We
have not yet dived into its depths. We know not its marvelous lengths
and breadths.
I have often been startled–and if any should say, jeeringly, "The
preacher speaks by experience," they may–I have often been startled
when I have found in my heart the possibilities of iniquity of which I
thought I never could have been the subject, in reveries by day or in
dreams of the night. All at once a blasphemy, foul as Hell, has started
up in the very middle of offering a prayer so earnest that my heart
never knew more fervor! I have been staggered at myself. When God has
called us into the pulpit–we thought, at one time, we never could be
proud if God so honored us–this has seemed
to quicken our step in the black march of our depraved heart. Or, when
a little cast down and troubled in spirit, we have wished to leave the
world altogether, and have been like Jonah, trying to flee to Tarshish
that we might not go to this great Nineveh at our Lord's bidding.
Little did we reckon that there was such cowardice in our soul! We have
thus found out another phase in our own nature.
Does any man imagine that his heart is not vile? If he is a professing
Christian, I much suspect whether he ought not to renounce his
profession, for, I think any enlightened man who sincerely looks to
himself and whose experience leads him somewhat to look within will
surely find, not mere foibles, but foulness that literally staggers
him! I question the Christianity of that man who doubts whether there
are, in his soul, the remains of such corruption as drown the ungodly
in Hell, or whether, though a quickened child of God, he has another
law in his members, warring against the law of his mind. What? Has he
no such battle within that the things he would do he often does not,
while the things that he would not do he often does? Has he no need to
be in constant prayer to God to deliver him from the evil in his heart
that he may be more than a conqueror over it at last? I do assert, once
more, and I think the experience of God's children bears me out, that
when we shall be most advanced and when we come, at last, to sit down
in God's Kingdom above, we shall find that we have not learned all that
there is to be learned of the foulness of our nature and the
desperateness of our soul's disease.
"The whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint. From the sole of
the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in it; but wounds and
bruises, and putrefying sores." "The heart is deceitful above all
things, and desperately wicked; who can know it?" "Cleanse You me from
secret faults." "Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me, and know
my thoughts; and see if there are any wicked ways in me, and lead me in
the way everlasting." Perhaps, if we knew more of this terrible evil,
it might imperil our reason. Hardly could it be possible for us to bear
the full discovery and live. Among the wise concealments of God is that
which hides from open view the depravity of our heart and the
corruption of our nature.
II. But now I turn to THE PRACTICAL USE OF OUR SUBJECT, looking at it
in two ways– what it forbids and what it suggests.
The depravity of our nature forbids, first of all, a venturing or
presuming to play and toy with temptation. When a Christian asks, "May
I go into such a place?"–should he parley thus with himself–"True,
temptation is very strong there, but I shall not yield. It would be
dangerous to another man, but it is safe to me. If I were younger, or
less prudent and circumspect, I might be in jeopardy, but I have passed
the days of youthful passion. I have learned by experience to be more
expert, I think. Therefore I may venture to plunge and hope to swim
where younger men have been carried away by the tide, and less stable
ones have been drowned." All such talking as this comes of evil and
promotes evil! Proud flesh vaunts its purity and becomes a prey to
every vice. This is the conception of iniquity! Only let it be
nourished and it will soon bring forth in hideous form every
development of sin! He who carries gunpowder about him had better not
stand where there are many sparks. He whose limbs are out of joint is
in danger of falling every moment and he had better not trust himself
to walk on the edge of a precipice. Let those who feel themselves to be
of a peculiarly sensitive constitution not venture into a place where
disease is rife. If I knew my lungs to be weak and liable to
congestion, I should shrink from foul air and any vicious atmosphere.
If you know that your heart has certain proclivities to sin, why go and
tempt the devil to take advantage of you? Satan will surprise you often
enough–why, then, should you borrow fuel from his forge for your own
destruction? Why will you go forth to meet him instead of trying with
all vigilance to elude his insidious attacks? You have quite enough
temptation already!
It is an evil thing for God's people when they leave their proper
quarters and visit the localities where sin abounds. Were you an angel,
were you sure you could never fall, then you might securely pitch your
tent in the pestilential swamp, or frequent the haunts of sensual
attraction whose house is the way to Hell, going down to the chambers
of death, without apprehension of harm. But you are so prone to evil,
so susceptible of contagion, that I warn you not to trifle with it!
Were you hard as adamant, your duty would still be to keep out of the
way of temptation, to go as far as possible from the forbidden Tree of
the Knowledge of Good and Evil. But you are not as strong as adamant,
you are a creature whose moral power is weak, whose bias to evil is
extreme–I implore you, therefore, as you would honor your God and
stand in His brightness–to not go where the temptation to sin is
glaring and flatter yourself that you will come out guileless.
There are some of us who are such poor soldiers that I think if we had
our choice, we would rather be where there was the least danger. It is
right for some brave men, when duty calls, to go into the thickest of
the battle, but every Christian is not meant to be in the front rank.
There are some men who have to deal with great sins, who are to seek to
pluck sinners as brands from the burning. There are those who, like the
physician, must go into the midst of the plague, that they may try to
save such as are struck with it. Some men's calling necessarily demands
that they should be in the midst of sin, yet they have need to keep a
special guard over themselves, lest, while they seek to pluck others
from the fire, they be like Nebuchadnezzar's men, who, in going near
the furnace, were themselves burned! Let them take heed, then, to
themselves, who seek to take care for others. In some of those
charitable missions in which you, my dear Brothers and Sisters in the
Church are daily engaged, take care lest you yourselves, exposed to
temptation, should so slip and slide that Satan may have to rejoice
that, instead of smiting the lion, the lion has smitten you and you are
lying at his feet. Oh, keep out of temptation's way, or invade it armed
with the entire panoply of God! Not many of us are called to expose
ourselves to it. Keep as far off as you can. You had need be watchful.
But, again, knowing how vile we are by nature, knowing, indeed, that we
are bad enough for anything, let us take another caution. Boast not,
neither in any wise vaunt yourselves. Presume not to say, "I shall
never do this. I shall never do that." Never venture to ask, with
Hazael, "Is your servant a dog, that he should do this great thing?" My
experience has furnished me with many proofs that the braggart in
morality is not the man to be bound for. I would not like to stand
security for his virtue. He professed to hate drunkenness. He was
certain he could never be intoxicated and yet he has indulged the
vicious taste when his companions have lured him on–and stained the
character that he vainly bragged of. If not that particular sin, yet
there has been some other even more terrible, perhaps, more fatal to
the soul, which has struck that man down to the dust who has dared to
vaunt his integrity. He has said, "My mountain stands firm. I shall
never be moved!" And in that very point where he thought his firmness
lay, or in some other which was next-of-kin to it, he has proved his
weakness. Lo, the mountain tottered to its base and was cast into the
midst of the sea! There are no men who are in such danger as the men
who think they are not in any danger! There are none so likely to sin
as those who say they cannot sin!
I remember a story, told me by a dear Brother who is present with us
now. A tradesman who held office in the Church, asked him for a loan of
money. Though rather inconvenient, he was about to comply and would
have done so had not some such inducement as this been offered, "You
know you may safely advance this money to me, for I am incorruptible. I
am not young, I am past temptation." Thereupon, my friend promptly
declined, as he did not like the security. The result justified his
shrewdness. At that very time, the borrower knew he was on the verge of
bankruptcy and, before long, was actually a bankrupt–and yet he could
pretend to say he was above temptation! Above all, avoid those men who
think themselves immaculate and never fear a fall. If there is a ship
on God's sea, the captain of which declares that nothing can ever sink
her, stand clear! Get into the first leaky boat to escape from her, for
she will surely founder. Give a ship the flag of humility and it is
well–but they that spread out the red flag of pride and boast that
they are staunch and trim, and shall never sink, will either strike
upon a rock, or founder in the open sea! Pride is the mother of
soul-ruin! Self-confidence is next door to self-destruction. "Pride
goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall."
Boast not, though you are ever so strong. Boasting becomes not any
mortal. Neither the stature nor the strength of Goliath could furnish a
pretext for his arrogance. Goliath never seemed so little as when he
said to David, "Come to me, and I will give your flesh unto the fowls
of the air, and to the beasts of the field." Leave your boasting until
the battle is done! Do not begin to glory till you have trod all your
enemies beneath your feet. Wait till you have crossed the Jordan and
have reached the shores of the promised land. Do not begin to say, "I
am out of gunshot. I am beyond the reach of sin." "Oh," said one, "I
have so grown in Grace that I cannot sin!" Brother, I would not have
you think so. "The man after God's own heart" sinned foully. What if
you, also, are after God's own heart, why should you say, "I cannot
sin"? Think of Lot–just Lot, vexed with the filthy conversation of the
wicked–into what sin he was betrayed. Are you as wise as Solomon? Yet
Solomon was a thorough fool. May you not be, in your old age, a fool,
too? Are you a Believer? So was Peter, and yet Peter denied his Master!
May not you deny your Master, too? Let the fact that many of God's
saints have fallen when they seemed to be the strongest–Moses the meek
failed in his temper, Abraham faltered in his faith, patient Job waxed
irritable, and so forth–let their example teach you to take heed to
yourself, lest you also be tempted and be cast down.
And let this fact, that we do not know our own baseness, teach us not
to be harsh, or too severe, with those of God's people who have
inadvertently fallen into sin. Be severe with their sin–never excuse
it. Let your actions and your conduct prove that you hate the garment
spotted with the flesh–that you abhor the transgression, cannot endure
it, and must drive it away. Yet always distinguish between the
transgressor and the transgression. Think not that his soul is lost
because his feet have slipped! Imagine not that because he has gone
astray, he cannot be restored! If there must be a church censure passed
upon him, yet take care that you so act that he, in penitence of
spirit, may joyously return! Be as John was to Peter. Shut not out your
fallen Brothers, for the day may come when men will shut you out, and
when you may need all the pity and all the help which others can give
you. Distinguish, I say again, between the sin that you condemn and the
sinner whom you must still love–the child of God over whom you must
still weep.
Ah, Sirs, there may be some of you here who speak with bitter contempt
and scorn of those who, notwithstanding their frailties, are better men
than yourselves! God may have suffered some sin to attain a great
predominance over them for a season. Perhaps, if all were known, you
might be proved to be worse than they and, oh, were the Lord to take
His bit from your mouth, and the bridle of His Divine Providence from
your jaws, you might run to a still greater excesses of riot! Who makes
you to differ? What have you that you have not received? Say in your
soul, "By the Grace of God I am what I am," but stand not up with the
self-righteousness of the Pharisee, and say, "God, I thank You that I
am not as other men are."
Leaving now this point of caution, let us consider, by way of counsel,
what positive suggestions may arise. If we are thus depraved and know
not the full extent of our depravity, what then should we do? Surely,
we should daily mourn before God because of this great sinfulness. We
are full of sin, so let us constantly renew our grief. We have not
repented of sin to the full extent unless we repent of the disposition
to sin as well as the actual commission of sin. We should deplore
before God, not only what we have done, but that depravity which made
us do it. See how David repents. He does not merely mourn for sin, but
he says, "Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother
conceive me." He makes it a part of his confession that iniquity was in
his inward parts and that his soul was tainted from birth! So let it be
with you–weep over your sinful nature as well as over the development
of that nature. Weep not merely over the fountain, but over the deep
spring from which the fountain gushes! Not merely over the coin of sin
which has been minted into outer acts, but over that base bullion of
iniquity which lies uncoined in your heart! Every day expose this, as
well as the sins you have committed before God. Lay before God, not
merely your crutches, but your lameness–not merely your ceremonial
defilement, but the deep leprosy that is in your skin and in your
bones. Yes, mourn over it, and beg Him, by His Grace, to cleanse you,
that you may enter into His Kingdom!
And when you have done this, take heed that you walk every day very
near to God, seeking daily supplies of His Grace. Brothers and Sisters,
I charge you and specially do I charge myself–let us look up to God,
let us hourly depend upon Him, feeling that yesterday's Grace is of no
use whatever for today, that the Grace which saved us seven years ago
is not the Grace that can save us now, but we must have fresh supplies!
There are many, I think, who sit down, and say, "We once knew Christ."
That is not enough, Brothers and Sisters! We must know Christ each day.
We must have fresh Grace each hour. It is not once to be partaker of
the Divine Nature, but to be daily a partaker of it. Does the tree bear
the fruit by the sap of seven years ago? Is it not the sap of this year
which will produce the seed of this year's fruit? And must it not be so
with you? Must you not have a daily influx of the Divine influences of
the Holy Spirit? Must you not receive from Christ each hour that life
without which you must droop and die?
O Brothers and Sisters, let no day pass by without commending
yourselves to God! Let no hour be spent without resting under His wing!
May our daily habit be to cry unto Him, "Hold You me up, and I shall be
safe." My dear Hearers, there are some of you who think you are not
vile. That is because you have never had your eyes opened to learn your
depravity. Let me tell you this, that you are so depraved that unless
you are born-again, you cannot even see the Kingdom of God. You may
reform, you may go and seek to make yourselves better, but you cannot
do it. Think of the old proverb, "The dog is turned to his own vomit
again; and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire." Yes,
our nature is so base–it is so depraved and so vile–that there must
be a radical change of our whole self. How, then, can you change your
nature? Can you renew your own heart? God forbid that you should be so
vainly infatuated as to imagine it possible! No arm but the eternal arm
can make you what you should be. "Can the Ethiopian change his skin,
or the leopard his spots?" Can you make yourself a new creature in
Christ? You cannot create a fly, or a grain of dust much less can you
create within yourself a new heart!
But there is One who can. The Holy Spirit is able and Jesus Christ is
willing to do so. Do you say, "Oh, that He would renew my heart
tonight"? I think He has already begun the work–that desire of yours,
if sincere, would prove it. Remember that what He bids you to do is to
trust Him. If you have longing desires for Him, cast yourself down at
His feet and say, "Lord Jesus, Your salvation is brought near to me. I
trust in You to make known in me this strange, this God-like Grace.
Work in me the new heart, the Divine life, the new nature! Save me,
save me, Jesus! Put my feet in the narrow way and then guide me all the
days of my pilgrimage and bring me to Yourself, that where you are, in
Heaven, there I may be with You."
Sinner, He will do it! He will hear your cry and answer your petition,
and you, in the heights of Heaven, shall sing of the mercy which
received you when you were not worthy to be received, of the love which
loved you when you were wholly unlovely, and of all the Grace which
changed your nature and made you meet to be a partaker of the
inheritance of the saints in light! God grant that we may not, any of
us, be as Hazael was–the perpetrators of crimes of which we never
suspected ourselves capable–but rather, feeling that we are men and
women of the same kith and kin as the vilest sinners that ever trod
this earth, may it be our grateful surprise and our happy lot to be
justified freely by God's Grace through the Redemption that is in
Christ Jesus! So shall we be numbered with His saints both now and
throughout eternity! Amen.
EXPOSITION BY C. H. SPURGEON: 1 KINGS 19.
Verses 1, 2. And Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and also
how he had slain all the prophets with the sword. Then Jezebelsent a
messenger unto Elijah, saying, So let the gods do to me, andmore, also,
ifImake not your life as the life of one of them by tomorrow about this
time. She was too fast in uttering her threat and it often happens that
malice outwits and overleaps itself. If Jezebel meant to kill Elijah,
she should not have given him notice that she intended to do it.
3. And when he saw that, he arose, and went for his life, and came to
Beer-Sheba, which belongs to Judah, and left his servant there. He did
not feel safe even in the adjoining kingdom, for he fled through
Israel, and then went almost the whole length of Judah, right into the
wilderness. Note that he "left his servant there," at Beer-Sheba. Even
in his anxiety about himself, he had tender consideration for others
and, besides, he wanted complete solitude.
4. But he himself went a day'sjourney into the wilderness, and came and
sat down under ajuniper tree: andhe requested for himself that he might
die and said, It is enough; now, O LORD, take a way my life; for I am
not better than my fathers. Having presented this passionate and
unreasonable prayer, he laid himself down to sleep–the very best thing
that he could do under the circumstances.
5-8. And as he lay and slept under a juniper tree, behold, then an
angel touched him, and said unto him, Arise and eat. Andhe looked, and,
behold, there was a cake baked on the coals, and a cruse of water at
his head. Andhe did eat and drink and laid down again. And the angel of
the LORD came again the second time, and touched him, and said, Arise
and eat, because the journey is too great for you. And he arose, and
did eat and drink, and went in the strength of that meat forty days and
forty nights unto Horeb, the mount of God. When he was hungry before,
ravens fed him, but now an angel ministers to his needs! God uses all
sorts of messengers and means, so that His children may be provided
for. This man's one meal lasted him through a fast of forty days and
forty nights and, dear Friend, if God gives not bread to you, He can
take away your hunger, so that you have no need to eat and drink.
9. And he came there unto a cave, and lodged there. There was something
congenial about the rugged sides of Horeb, the mountain of God, making
it a suitable place for a man of Elijah's spirit–the very gloom of the
cave gave him some sort of miserable comfort.
9. And, behold, the word of the LORD came to him, and He said unto him,
What are you doing here, Elijah?' 'Why have you run away?"
10-12. And he said, Ihave been very jealous for the LORD God of Hosts:
for the children of Israel have forsaken Your covenant, thrown down
Your altars, and slain Your prophets with the sword; and I, even I
only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away. And He said, Go
forth, and stand upon the mountain before the LORD. And, behold, the
LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind split the mountains, and
broke in pieces the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the
wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the LORD was not in the
earthquake: and after the earthquake a fire; but the LORD was not in
the fire: and after the fire a still small Voice. A mystic whisper and
God was there, as He often is in little things.
13, 14. And it was so, when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face
in his mantle, and went out, and stood in the entrance of the cave.
And, behold, there came a Voice unto him, and said, What are you doing
here, Elijah? And he said, Ihave been very jealous. He stands to what
he had said before and now repeats his assertion–
14, 15. For the LORD God of Hosts: because the children of Israel have
forsaken Your covenant, thrown down Your altars, and slain Your
prophets with the sword; and I, even I only, am left; and they seek my
life, to take it away. And the LORD said unto him. Go, return on your
way to the wilderness of Damascus: and when you come, anoint Ha-zael to
be king over Syria. I t must have been a great comfort to Elijah to
have some more work to do. It often takes the mind off very pressing
sorrow if one is sent on some new employment.
16, 17. And, Jehu the son of Nimshishall you anoint to be king over
Israel: andElisha the son of Shaphat of Abel-meholah shall you anoint
to be Prophet in your place. And it shall come to pass, that him that
escapes the sword of Ha-zael shall Jehu slay: and him that escapes from
the sword of Jehu shall Elisha slay. God heard the prayer that Elijah
had prayed against Israel, for it was really a prayer against the
people who had forsaken the Lord their God. There are times when men,
who are most tender of heart, feel as if they must take God's side
against sinners. But the Lord also comforted Elijah with good news:–
18. Yet I have left Me seven thousand in Israel, all the knees which
have not bowed unto Baal, and every mouth which has not kissed him.