"All These Things"–A Sermon with Three Texts
A Sermon
(No. 837)
Delivered on Sunday Morning, October 18, 1868, by
C. H. SPURGEON,
at the [46]Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington.
"And Jacob their father said unto them, You have bereaved me of my
children: Joseph is not, and Simeon is not, and you will take
Benjamin away: all these things are against me."
Genesis 42:36.
THE Patriarch must use the expression, "ALL THESE THINGS." He had gone
through the catalog–there were but three items at the most, and yet
nothing narrower than, "All these things are against me" will suit him.
Our notation of our trials is very apt to present them in exaggerated
number, but when we come to count our mercies, as a usual rule our
tendency is to diminish them. We magnify the hosts of our troubles and
underestimate the armies of our benefits. It were well if it were not
so, for the habit is most painful to ourselves and dishonorable to God.
"All these things," indeed! And what a little "all" compared with the
benefits of God! What an insignificant "all" compared with the
sufferings of our Covenant Head! What a trifling "all" compared with
the amazing weight of Glory which shall soon be revealed in us!
However, allowing the timorous expression to stand, it shall be my
business this morning to show that while, according to the verdict of
unbelief, "all these things are against us," yet there are other lights
in which to look upon the multitude of our griefs–lights which shall
enable us to perceive their benefit to us, and even to triumph in them
through Him that loved us.
I. Our first text is THE EXCLAMATION OF UNBELIEF–"All these things are
against me." In Jacob's case it was a very plausible verdict. Joseph he
had long lost sight of. Simeon did not return from the journey into
Egypt. His sons now requested that Benjamin might be entrusted to their
thriftless care–and it might well appear to the anxious father as if,
one by one, his children were sinking into untimely graves and that God
was dealing severely with him. Even the insinuation by which he
ascribed these bereavements to the malice or carelessness of his sons,
"You have bereaved me of my children," had an air of great likelihood
thrown around it.
Yet plausible as was the old man's mournful conclusion, it was not
correct, and therefore let us learn to forbear rash judgment and never,
in any case, conclude against the faithfulness of the Lord. There may
be peculiarities in our case which look as if the Master had treated us
with cruel harshness. There may be thorns of unusual sharpness in our
pillow but we must not dream that anger placed them there. We may be
pining under a grief which we could not tell into another's ear. It may
seem that our lot is singled out and separated for peculiar misery–and
therefore it may seem just to conclude, "God has forsaken me. He has
turned upon me in His fierce anger, and His loving kindnesses have
failed forevermore."
But rest assured, my Brothers and Sisters, that the most plausible is
not always the most true, and the most natural is not the most sure.
God is and ever must be love to His people. Let nothing disturb you in
this belief. Believe not the clearest inferences from His
Providence–believe HIM! Let outward circumstances say what they may.
Even if your understanding should lead you to doubt the Lord, remember
that God is greater than your understanding, that His ways are past
finding out, and in the end His dispensations must prove to be wise,
loving, and gracious. Yet I can well imagine that souls in distress
feel it almost ungenerous to dispute the verdict at which they have
arrived–for the evidence appears to be so multiplied and clear.
Sitting alone, silent in your sorrow, crushed out of all hope, you
claim the unhappy right to declare, "All these things are against me."
And yet, Beloved, it is not so. Jacob's exclamation was most evidently
exaggerated–exaggerated in the term he used, "All these things," for
there were but three evils at the most–exaggerated, too, in most of
the statements. He said, "Simeon is not." Now, his sons had told him
that the ruler of the land of Egypt had taken Simeon bound him before
their eyes. But they gave him no reason to believe that Simeon was put
to death. The old man jumps to a conclusion for which he has no
warrant, and laments because, "Simeon is not."
He added, "You would take Benjamin away." Yes, but only to go into
Egypt to buy corn–a short and needed journey from which he would soon
return. You would suppose, from the Patriarch's language, that beyond
all doubt Simeon had fallen a victim in Egypt, and that Benjamin was
demanded with a view to his instant execution! But where was evidence
to support this assertion? We frequently talk of our sorrows in
language larger than the truth warrants. We write ourselves down as
peers in the realms of misery, whereas we do but bear the common
burdens of ordinary men. We dream that no others have ever passed along
our rugged path, whereas the road is beaten down with the footsteps of
the flock.
We imagine that the furnace has been heated seven times hotter for us,
whereas, compared with martyrs and the afflicted in all ages, and
especially compared with our Master, it is probable that our griefs are
of the lighter kind. The exclamation of Jacob was also as absurd as it
was exaggerated. It lead him to make a speech which, (however
accidentally true), with his information as to his sons was ungenerous,
and even worse. He said, "You have bereaved me of my children." Now, if
he really believed that Joseph was torn of beasts, as he appears to
have believed, he had no right to assail the brothers with a charge of
murder, for it was little else.
In the case of Simeon, the brothers were perfectly innocent–they had
nothing whatever to do with Simeon's being bound–it was wrong to
accuse them so harshly. In the taking away of Benjamin, though there
may have been a jealousy against him as before against Joseph, yet most
certainly the brothers were not to blame. They told their father, most
correctly, the message which the lord of Egypt had sent to him. It was
Joseph who had said, "If you bring not your younger brother with you,
by the life of Pharaoh you shall not see my face again." That was no
invention of theirs, and it was unjust on the part of the old Patriarch
to cast over his sons, who probably loved him very much and were
anxious for his welfare, an accusation little short of a charge of
triple murder. "You have bereaved me of my children." Oh, cruel words!
Brothers and Sisters, when our griefs are heavy we are apt to accuse
our fellows, to be angry with the secondary causes of our suffering and
to say things which ought not to be said by the followers of the meek
and lowly Jesus! A dog will bite the stick with which you strike him,
but if he had sense he would see how little the secondary cause has to
do with it. And so we, oftentimes, are provoked against the person
through whom we are troubled, whereas, after all, the rod is wielded by
the hand of God, and He is the true source of affliction! If you drink
of the river of affliction near its outfall, it is brackish and
offensive to the taste. But if you will trace it to its Source, where
it rises at the foot of the Throne of God, you will find its waters to
be sweet and health-giving.
Even the waters of affliction, when they are tasted at the wellhead,
are sweet with Divine love. But if you follow them along the miry
channels of secondary causes and instrumentalities, you will perceive a
bitterness in them creating envy, malice, and all uncharitableness
within you. Jacob was, in the expression before us, even bitter towards
God! There is not a word like submission in the sentence, nothing of
resignation, nothing of confidence. He knew very well that all things
came from God, and, in effect he declares that God is, in all these
things, fighting against him. God forbid that these tongues, which owe
their power to speak to the great God, should ever pervert their powers
to slandering Him! And yet if our tongues have not spoken
unbelievingly, how often our hearts have done so!
We have said, "Why has God dealt thus with me? Why are His strokes so
multiplied? And why are my wounds so blue? Oh, why am I thus chastised?
Why does He put cross upon cross upon my galled shoulders and crush me
into the dust with heaviness of sorrow?" Peace, child of God, peace!
Your Father loves you–love Him in return–and let your love assure you
that it is not possible for Him to measure out to you a drachma of
sorrow more than is needed, nor a grain of bitterness more than your
soul absolutely requires for its spiritual health! The exclamation,
then, of Jacob was sadly bitter, both towards God and man. If it had
not been for unbelief it had never dishonored his lips.
Observe that this speech was rather carnal than spiritual. You see more
of human affections than of Divine Grace-worked faith–more of the
calculator than the Believer–more of Jacob than of Israel. Jacob is
more the man and less the man of God than we might have expected him to
have been. See how he dwells upon his bereavements! "Joseph," that dear
name, as it brought up the beloved Rachel before his mind, wrung the
old man's heart. "Joseph is not." Alas, that wound was still bleeding!
Then, "Simeon is not." The reckless, daring, valorous Simeon is fallen
in the stranger's land!
Then, worst of all, Benjamin, the dear name intertwined with the
saddest of his funerals–the mother's "Benoni," and the father's,
"Benjamin"–the last and dearest must be taken away.
You see it is the father all through–the loving parent thinking only
of his children–the natural affections predominating. You see nothing
here of the grandeur of faith, nothing of the nobility of Job when he
said, "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name
of the Lord." Here we meet with no such question as that of the
Patriarch of Uz–"Shall we receive good at the hand of the Lord, and
shall we not, also, receive evil?" Jacob acts like a wayward child,
vexed and out of temper, crying against its father. He manifests a
petulant spirit tempted by the natural promptings of the flesh to rebel
against God.
For awhile the work of the Spirit was beclouded and eclipsed in that
venerable man of God. And so, Brethren, we, also, must set ourselves
upon our watchtower lest by any means we suffer even the allowable
affections of the flesh to overshadow our spirit and dim the luster of
the work of Divine Grace. Jesus wept, and therefore we may weep. Sorrow
is licensed by the Redeemer's example. Our Lord was no stoic, and He
would not have His people restrain natural emotions. We are bound to
sorrow when we are afflicted and chastened of the Lord. But though
Jesus wept, He did not murmur. Though He sorrowed, yet He did not
repine. There is a boundary beyond which our mourning must not pass.
Jacob might well have said, "Joseph is not. Simeon is a prisoner and
Benjamin is to be taken away from me. The cup is bitter, and if it is
possible, O Lord, let it pass from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but
Yours be done." And then he might have burst into a flood of tears and
there would have been no sin in it all, but much of sacred tenderness.
But he went too far–his natural affections, instead of taking their
proper place, usurped the place in which faith should have sat supreme.
He did not merely give his feelings vent, but mastery. He not only
wept, but salted his tears with murmuring. And this was an evil thing.
Notice, dear Brothers and Sisters, in the case before us, the
Patriarch's unbelieving observation was quite unwarranted by his past
history. He had been a man of troubles from his youth up. He fled from
his father's house to be an exile. He laid himself down with a stone
for his pillow and the hedges for his curtains–but with the angels for
his watchers. And did he find the solitude of Luz and the desolation of
that lonely place to be against him? Ah, no! He dreamed that matchless
dream in which a ladder was set between earth and Heaven, and the
Covenant God appeared to him and made a Covenant with him and sent him
on his way rejoicing! Could Jacob think of Bethel, and say, "All these
things are against me"?
And when afterwards, more memorable still, he came back with his wives
and those very children over whom he now grieves, did not Jehovah
preserve him? Could he forget Peniel and the place where he wrestled
and prevailed at the brook Jabbok? Could he forget an infuriated
brother with a band of400 men sworn to take his life come to destroy
him–and a brother justly incensed–against whom Jacob had done a great
wrong? Esau was then close upon him to strike the mother with the
children–did Jacob, then, find that all things were against him? Did
not Esau fall upon his neck and kiss him? Did not God deliver His
servant? And so, again, at Shechem, when the nations of the land would
have avenged the blood of the Shechemites who had been so treacherously
slain by his sons. Did not the Lord bade them touch not His anointed
and do His Prophet no harm? And did not Jacob walk in safety among
tribes thirsty for his blood?
Thus, looking back upon the past and remembering the Covenant which God
had made with him, it was not consistent that Jacob should speak as he
did. It was more consistent with the past to have said, "Out of this
difficulty I shall arise, for the Lord is with me." It was consistent
with his past experience for him to have commanded his sons,
"Whatsoever the Lord does, let us accept it at His hands, for He has
not forsaken us in the past, neither will He desert us in days to
come." That would have been faith! But oh, how often you and I forget
the steps already trod–and all the mercies which attended them–and
fear that God will forsake us and become our enemy!
The Ebenezers which we have raised, do they count for nothing? His love
in times past, has that no argument in it for the present and for the
future? Will we not say with David, "Because You have been my help,
therefore in the shadow of Your wings will I rejoice"? He has been with
us in 10 troubles–can we not trust Him for the eleventh? We went
through fire and water. Men did ride over our heads. Yet He brought us
out into a wealthy place and set our feet in a large room, and can we
not rely upon Him now that new difficulties obstruct our path? Yes,
Beloved, we will learn from the past, for the lesson of our experience
is that the Lord has not forsaken them that trust Him, and they that
wait upon Him shall never be ashamed or confused, world without end.
Still keeping to Jacob's exclamation, let me observe that it was
altogether erroneous. Not a syllable that he spoke was absolutely true.
"Joseph is not." And yet, poor Jacob, Joseph is! You think the beasts
have devoured him, but he is ruler over all the land of Egypt–and you
shall kiss his cheeks before long. "Simeon is not." Wrong again, good
father, for Simeon is alive, though for his good, to cool his hot and
headlong spirit, Joseph has laid him by the heels a little. He had been
much too furious in killing the Shechemites and in other deeds of
blood. Joseph knows this and is doing his brother a service that may
change his character through life by keeping him a little while in
captivity!
And as to Benjamin, whom you say they wish to take away–he is to go
and see his brother, Joseph, who longs to embrace him and will return
him to you in peace. Not one of all these things is against you. Joseph
is sent to Egypt to feed you in the famine and to cherish you in your
old age–so as to make your last days your best days–and to save the
house of Israel, and in fact, all the nations of the earth, alive! As
for Simeon, good comes out of that, and that is not against you. And as
for Benjamin, he shall be preserved to you, and you, too, shall go down
and dwell in the land and rejoice exceedingly. Everything is for you!
Now, usually, our unbelief is a great liar. Our best things are
reckoned by unbelief to be our worst. God sends His mercies to us in
black envelopes, and we sit down crying over their dismal covering and
dare not open the letter and read the heavenly news written within! The
Lord sends His blessings in rumbling wagons, and we are so frightened
at the sound as almost to lose the choice contents. Well does the hymn
put it–
"You fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds you so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head."
Our best days have been those which we thought our worst. Probably we
are never so much in prosperity as when plunged in adversity. No summer
days contribute so much to the healthy growth of our souls as those
sharp wintry nights which are so trying to us. We fear that we are
being destroyed, and our inner life is at that moment being most
effectually preserved. Oh, if we read them aright, all things are for
us! We are a thousand fools in one to be quibbling at the Divine
dispensation, and saying, "All these things are against me."
Jacob was wrong in every jot and tittle of what he said, and so usually
are we. Being wrong in judgment, the good old man was led to unwise
acting and speaking, for he said, "My son shall not go down with you."
He would not yield to his sons. He was determined that Benjamin should
not leave him. Simeon he seemed content to leave in prison, although he
ought to have sent his sons back in the hope of bringing their poor
brother out of bondage. And he ought to have been willing to run the
risk of losing Benjamin rather than to have all the rest of his family
die of starvation. But the old man resolutely sets his face and perhaps
stamps his foot, and tells them, "No!" Never with his consent should
Benjamin be trusted with them. And to this resolve he stands until they
are nearly starving, and then he says, "If I am bereaved of my
children, I am bereaved."
The unbelieving generally do stupid things. We conclude that God is
against us and then we act in such a way as to bring troubles upon
ourselves which otherwise would not have come. To stand still and see
the salvation of God is a grand position for a believing soul, but to
run headlong–cloud or no cloud, guide or no guide–is to fall into the
ditch, to lose ourselves in the dark woods and to bring upon ourselves
unnumbered ills. Let us take heed of unbelief, since it confuses the
judgment and dishonors God. And notice, once more, that good old Jacob
lived to find, in actual experience, that he had been wrong from
beginning to end. We do not all live to see what fools we have been,
but Jacob did. I wonder, when the wagons came and he was quite sure
they came from Joseph, what he thought of that speech, "All these
things are against me"?
And when he came to Egypt, and Joseph came to meet him, and they fell
upon each other's necks–I wonder whether it did not half choke him to
think, "I once said, 'all these things are against me.' " When the old
soul went tottering about the land of Goshen, leaning on his staff,
with his mind full of all the glory of his darling Joseph. When he was
enjoying a brilliant old age, at last. When he saw, day by day, how
Joseph was honored, and how great he was, I think he must often have
sought out a little corner to weep in and to confess, "Lord, how wicked
was I to say, 'All these things are against me,' when I have lived to
see You dealing with me with a Father's tenderness, and with the wisdom
and loving kindness of a gracious God."
If we are not, in this world, permitted to see the good results of all
our troubles, at any rate we shall behold them in the next. And if such
things as tears ofjoy will be allowed on the other side of the river,
some of us will shed abundance of them! Oh, if regrets might mingle
there, how we shall regret that we rashly anticipated the results of
Divine action and were so unwise as to misinterpret the Master's mind!
At any rate, we will string our harps to noble tunes and this shall be
the part of our celestial minstrelsy, "The Lord lives, and blessed be
our Rock who out of much tribulation has brought His servants, and
through their tribulation has helped them to obtain the victory and to
enter into their eternal rest." Thus much upon the exclamation of
unbelief, for higher themes await us.
II. Turn now to the 38th chapter of Isaiah, and the 16th verse, where
you have THE PHILOSOPHY OF EXPERIENCE. "O Lord, by these things men
live, and in all these things is the life of my spirit." Unbelief says,
"All these things are against me." Enlightened experience says, "In all
these things is the life of my spirit." The passage is taken from the
prayer of Hezekiah after he was raised from his sick bed. He describes
the bitterness of his soul in his chattering, like the crane or the
swallow, but he comes to the conclusion that all these trials and
afflictions and approaches to the gates of the grave made up the life
of mortal men–and that by them the life of their spirit is served!
Beloved, this is a great and instructive Truth of God. Our spirits,
under God, live by passing through the sorrows of the present, for
first, let me remind you that by these trials and afflictions we live
because they are medicinal. There are spiritual diseases which would
corrupt our spirit if not checked, kept down and destroyed as to their
reigning power by the daily cross which the Lord lays upon our
shoulders. Just as the fever must be held in check by the bitter
draught of quinine, so must the bitter cup of affliction rebuke our
rising pride and worldliness. We would exalt ourselves above measure,
and provoke the Lord to jealousy against us, were it not that trouble
lays us low.
None of us shall know, until we read our biography in the light of
Heaven, from what inbred sins, foul corruptions, damnable filth and
detestable lusts we have been delivered by being driven again and again
along the fiery road of affliction. Adversities are the sharp knives
with which God does cut from us the deadly ulcers of our sins–these
are the two-edged swords with which He slays our enemies and His own
which lurk within us. He must prune us and trim us as the gardener his
trees, otherwise we shall bring forth no fruit. Therefore by all these
things which Jacob declared to be against him, we find the life of our
spirit wisely protected.
Afflictions, again, are stimulates. We are all apt to grow slothful. I
know not whether it is so with all Believers, but we of gross and
bilious temperament find ourselves oppressed by the spirit of
slumbering. But personal sickness, or relative grief, (which is
sharper, still), or serious pecuniary losses–these things stir our
sluggish blood and make our hearts beat at a healthier rate. There is
an old story in the Greek annals, of a soldier under Antignous who had
a disease about him, an extremely painful one, likely to bring him soon
to the grave. Always first in the ranks was this soldier, and in the
hottest part of the fray he was always to be seen leading the van. He
was the bravest of the brave because his pain prompted him to fight
that he might forget it.
He feared not death because he knew that in any case he had not long to
live. Antignous, who greatly admired the valor of his soldier, finding
out that he suffered from a disease, had him cured by one of the most
eminent physicians of the day. But alas, from that moment the warrior
was absent from the front of the battle! He now sought his ease, for,
as he remarked to his companions, he had something worth living
for–health, home, family, and other comforts–and he would not risk
his life, now, as before.
So when our troubles are many, we are made courageous in serving our
God. We feel that we have nothing to live for in this world and we are
driven by hope of the world to come to exhibit zeal, self-denial, and
industry. But how often is it otherwise in better times? Then the joys
and pleasures of this world make it hard for us to remember the world
to come and we sink into inglorious ease. Master, we thank You for our
griefs, for they have quickened us. We bless You for winds and waves,
for these have driven us away from treacherous shores. Before we were
afflicted we went astray, but now have we kept Your Word, by Your
Grace.
Trials and troubles touch the life of our spirit because their
endurance is strengthening. They have the same effect upon the
spiritual man as athletic exercises upon the wrestlers of old. If men
would win honor in the Greek games, they denied themselves all luxuries
and passed through severe ordeals by which their sinews and muscles
were developed. And so the Lord puts His children through severe
training that He may develop their manhood–that their patience may
learn to endure hardness–that their faith may learn steadfastness.
Rough winds root the oaks, so our afflictions confirm us in the
promises of God. We had been babes forever, and never have been able to
walk alone if the Lord had not put us on our feet and allowed us to
fall again and again–each time to rise stronger, acquiring the art of
walking by our bruises and broken knees.
Our troubles are a great educational process. We are at school now, and
are not yet fully instructed. What little we know, we scarcely know.
And what we have learned is so little that we are, most of us, only in
our A, B, Cs. Yet, we cannot read words of one syllable, and it is
right that we should continue at school till we are made meet to enter
into the loftier company beyond the stars. Now, who learns so well
anywhere as on the sick bed, or in the midst of tribulation? I tell
you, Sirs, there are days in a man's life when he learns more in an
hour than in 70 years of ease. I shall not give instances, but there
have been such days to some of us, of late, and may the Lord make us
wiser thereby!
Blessed is the man who is thus corrected and instructed–to whom the
Master opens up the Word, and the heart, and the promise by fire-light
shed from the furnace. The rod is a great teacher. I do not know
whether boys always need the rod to make them learn, but I am sure men
do. And some of us have skin so thick that we need to be struck
everyday. As David puts it, "All the day long have I been plagued, and
chastened every morning," as if he never began the day without his
whipping, and never passed through without a repetition of the
scourging. We must take up our cross daily if we would be disciples of
Jesus.
So, too, trials and tribulations are the life of our spirit because
they are preparative for that higher life in which the spirit shall
truly live. Jacob would hardly have been fit for the luxury of Egypt if
he had not been trained by his griefs. That happy period before his
death, in which he dwelt in perfect ease and peace, at the close of
which, leaning upon his staff, he bore such a blessed testimony to the
faithfulness of God–he would not have been fit to enjoy it–it would
have been disastrous to him if he had not been prepared for it by the
sorrows of Succoth. So we shall be made meet to be partakers in the
inheritance in light by traversing the wilderness before reaching the
promised land.
This is the place for washing our robes–yonder is the place for
wearing them! This is the place for tuning our harps, and discord is
inevitable to that work–but yonder is the abode of unbroken harmony!
We fret and grieve and vex ourselves today, but by-and-by we shall rest
in happiness unbroken! Let us have courage! The end will more than
repay us for the toil of the means, and the rest shall make up for the
labor of the way. Be of good comfort, and instead, from now on, of
concluding that outward trials are against you, agree with Hezekiah in
this wise sentence, "By these things men live."
Let me only detain you one minute, to ask you whether, in looking back
upon your life, are you not compelled to feel that the best parts of
your character have been produced in you by your troubles? Have not
your noblest actions been worked by you in adversity? You had not been,
today, what you are, nor where you are, nor on the road to Heaven as
you now are, if you had not been afflicted. How much we owe to the
anvil and the hammer! Would you alter your trials, now, if you could?
You would have arranged your lot very differently sometime ago–but
would you now? Even at this distance, too short to get the full
perspective, and to understand it thoroughly–would you have your life
changed?
I know you say devoutly, "Goodness and mercy have followed me all the
days of my life. Every dark and bending line has met in the center of
immutable love." Well, then, if it has been so until now, do you think
the Lord is about to change? Do you imagine that He gives His best
first? Is it not always His rule to keep the best wine until the last?
Oh, how it has cheered and comforted me of late to think that I have
always found my God to be most good to me, and if possible–after many
sharp trials, He seems to have been better! Of late He has seemed more
kind and gracious to me than at the first–and so it shall be to the
end. He cannot alter! He cannot deny Himself!
So let us sweep the furrows from our brow and wipe the tears from our
eyes! Jesus goes before us and the Spirit is with us. All things shall
not be against us, but in them all shall be the life of our spirit, and
our lasting good shall be the outgrowth of all.
III. I close with my third text, and I think you may almost guess it,
it tells of THE TRIUMPH OF FAITH. Turn now to the 8th chapter of
Romans, and the 37th verse. "In all these things we are more than
conquerors through Him that loved us." "All these things are against
us." Very well, we could not conquer them if they were not against
us–but they are the life of our spirit–and as Samson found honey in
the lion, so we, though these things roar upon us, shall find food
within them!
Trials threaten our death, but they promote our life. I want you to be
sure to notice the uniform expression, "All these things are against
us." "In all these things is the life of my spirit," and now, "in all
these things we are more than conquerors." The list is just as
comprehensive in the best text as in the worst. No, poor Jacob's, "All
these things" only referred to three. But look at Paul's list:
tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, peril,
sword–the list is longer, darker, blacker, fiercer, sterner–but still
we triumph, "In all these things we are more than conquerors."
Observe, then, that the believing Christian enjoys present triumph over
all his troubles. It is not, "We shall be more than conquerors," but,
"We are." "We are today." As afflictions come we conquer them and
before they come we overcome them. Over anticipated trouble, Faith wins
a glorious victory. She believes that when trial comes it shall work
her good, and so the bitterness thereof is gone forever, swallowed up
in victory. When the trial comes she meets it as a conquered enemy, and
after it is over she looks upon it as what she did foreknow, for she
counted it not a strange thing when the fiery trial overtook her.
We are conquerors, Brothers and Sisters, at this very hour! We often
talk of the crown which we are to wear, but we are kings and priests
unto our God even now! He has crowned us with loving kindness and
tender mercies. We say, "One day, thank God, I shall be able to rejoice
in these troubles," but Faith rejoices in them now. We rejoice in deep
distress, leaning on all-sufficient Grace. To come out of the furnace
and walk calmly is nothing. To walk in the furnace with the Son of
God–this is the miracle! To sing after you have left the bed of pain
is nothing. To sing God's highest praises on the bed of sickness is the
music that glorifies Him–and by faith we mean to excel in it!
It is no small thing to see the dearest one you have on earth struck
before you, and yet to bless the Lord. And when adversity comes, still
to praise Him. And when sickness follows, still to let the note rise
higher. And when death draws near, to lift the song yet more high, and
be more exultant, still. "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him."
I tell you, the praise God receives from His poor bereaved or sick
children is much sweeter than anything which ascends from angels, from
cherubim and seraphim! Who would not praise the Master when He
scatters, liberally, His daily favors? The devil found an opportunity
for speaking against Job from that very thing. He said, "Does Job fear
God for nothing? Have You not set a hedge about him and all that he
has? But put forth, now, Your hand and touch his bone and his flesh,
and he will curse You to Your face."
And God is so pleased with the praise He gets from His children when
their bone and flesh are touched, that He said, "He is in your hand,
only save his life." What glorious music it was when Job said, "Though
He slay me, yet will I trust in Him"! It rolled up into Jehovah's ear
with a sweetness such as cherubim and seraphim never could have
yielded. What a glorious conqueror Job was in the very midst of his
worst griefs! It was not that he received twice as much as before–
that was not the greatest triumph. The triumph was that while in
adversity he said, "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. Blessed
be the name of the Lord." May we have such faith as that, to be now,
"in all these things more than conquerors."
What does Paul mean by saying that Believers are more than conquerors?
Is it not this, that with the conqueror there is a time when his
triumph is in jeopardy? But it is never so with the Believer! He grasps
the victory at once by an act of faith. No "ifs," "buts," "perhaps,"
for him! He is conqueror at once, for God is on his side. A conqueror,
too, who wins by a battle and suffers by the battle. He has to endure
wounds, and toil, and faintness–but by all our troubles we are not
sufferers but gainers. It is not merely the reward of the suffering
which is good, but the suffering, itself, works patience, and patience
experience. Brothers and Sisters, if a wise Christian had his choice,
he would not choose the silken joys of prosperity and uninterrupted
happiness because such a thing is poverty. Our sufferings and griefs,
and losses, and crosses bring with them inevitably, through Divine
Grace, an abundant wealth!
I hear some Brethren rejoicing that perhaps the Lord will come, and
therefore they will not die. I would sooner die, had I my choice. I see
no comfort in the hope of not dying. "They that are alive and remain
shall not prevent them that are asleep." They shall not have preference
over them that die. And, indeed, it is written, "The dead in Christ
shall rise first: then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up
together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air; and so
shall we ever be with the Lord." So that some kind of priority is even
allotted to the dead in Christ. If I die not I shall have lost what
thousands will have who die, namely, actual fellowship with Christ in
the grave.
Let me have it, let me have it, my sweet Lord! Let me wear the
clay-cold shape of death that once was Yours and sleep within the
sepulcher as You did! To die and rise again, and be with You forever is
to complete the circle of the perfect!
Those who think that to be alive when He comes will be so great a
glory, will perhaps find it no such great thing compared with death and
resurrection in the likeness of the Lord Jesus. As the warrior of the
olden time dreaded peace and longed for the garment rolled in blood, so
may the Believers rejoice in afflictions. As before the engagement the
captain stimulates his soldiers by reminding them that, "the sterner
the warfare the greater the honor," even so may we nerve our spirits.
"Gentlemen in England now in bed will think themselves accursed that
they were not here, and hold their valor cheap that went not with us on
this glorious day"–so spoke the hero–and so let us, also, welcome
persecution and tribulation! We should hold ourselves defrauded of
honor if we avoided tribulation! We should look upon ourselves as being
so far impoverished for eternity in being spared affliction upon
earth–up yonder to relate the triumphs of Divine Grace in us–to tell
of the faithfulness of God in poverty and affliction. To make known to
principalities and powers forever the wonderful and eternal love of God
as we have discovered it in the furnace and amidst the flames! This
will be everlasting wealth for which we may be grateful, now, that God
is putting us in the way of gaining it. So that in these things we are
more than conquerors, since to the conqueror it is a disadvantage to
fight, but to us, even the fight itself is an advantage over and above
the victory.
But see how this last text of mine opens up the great source of
comfort. "We are more than conquerors through Him that loved us." Did
you notice Jacob said nothing about Him that loved us? No, he could not
have been unbelieving if he had thought of Him. And the life of our
spirit in trouble very much lies in remembering Him that loved us. It
is through Him we conquer because He has conquered! I think I see Him
at this instant wearing the crown of thorns, His hands still ruby with
the marks of the nails and His heart all opened with the spear. And He
says to me and to His servants, "Children, I am with you. You are
filling up in your bodies that which is behind of My sufferings for My
body's sake, which is the Church. Be conformed to Me. Ask patience, and
I will give it to you. Ask the Spirit's help and you shall receive it.
And after you have suffered awhile you shall be with Me where I am, to
behold My Glory."
Brethren, here is our joy, indeed! Now the furnace grows cool, for He
is at our side. The lake of trouble tossed with tempest becomes a sheet
of glass, for He walks the billows, and we hear Him say, "It is I." The
winds are hushed, and the coolest, softest zephyrs fan our cheeks while
yet, again, He says, "Let not your heart be troubled: you believe in
God, believe also in Me." "Peace I leave with you, My peace I give unto
you: not as the world gives, give I unto you." "In the world you shall
have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." The
Lord bless you, my tried Brethren, in all these things, for His name's
sake. Amen.
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Sins of Omission
A Sermon