Ben-Hadad’S Escape–An Encouragement For Sinners

Ben-Hadad'S Escape–An Encouragement For Sinners
A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 11, 1863, BY THE REV. C.
H. SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.
"And his servants said unto him, behold now, we have heard that the
kings of the house of Israel are merciful kings: let us, I pray you,
put sackcloth on our loins and ropes upon our heads and go out to the
king of Israel: perhaps he will save your life. So they girded
sackcloth on their loins and put ropes on their heads and came to the
king of Israel and said, your servant Ben-Hadad says, I pray you, let
me live. And he said, is he yet alive? He is my brother. Now the men
did diligently observe whether anything would come from him and did
hastily catch it: and they said, your brother Ben-Hadad. Then he said,
go you, bring him. Then Ben-Hadad came forth to him. And he caused him
to come up into the chariot. And Ben-Hadad said unto him, the cities,
which my father took from your father, I will restore. And you shall
make streets for you in Damascus, as my father made in Samaria. Then
said Ahab, I will send you away with this covenant. So he made a
covenant with him and sent him away."
1 Kings 20:31-34.
ALTHOUGH the manners and customs of warfare were exceedingly rough and
cruel in those primitive ages, yet it appears that the kings of Israel
gained a name for being merciful. I do not find recorded in Scripture
any particularly merciful acts of theirs and I should conclude that the
kings of other countries must have been very ferocious, if the kings of
Israel were at all merciful. Ancient records and memorial slabs record
tortures so horrible that you could not listen– if I were to describe
them–although they were the common barbarities with which Assyrian and
Babylonian victors concluded their wars.
It seems that the kings of the house of Israel did not go to the
lengths of savage cruelty usual among their neighbors. Upon which we
are led to remark that where the true worship of God does not make men
what they should be, yet it betters them in some respects. The kings of
Israel were all idolaters, but yet the presence of a little salt, a few
of the godly in the land, had an effect upon the State. And the
situation of the little kingdom of Judah, close at their elbow, with
its Temple and its Prophets, influenced the manners and customs of the
people, so that, "the kings of the house of Israel were merciful
kings," and this not because they feared God themselves, but because
there were others who did and whose influence and example, perhaps,
unconsciously, softened public sentiment and mitigated the ruthless
ferocity of war.
Is this nothing? Is it not a high honor to the seven thousand who bowed
not the knee to Baal, that in this respect they made Baal's worshippers
bow to them? Little do we know how much of the apparent morality of
this country is due to the real religion which we have in our land.
There are thousands of men in London who would open their shops tonight
if it were not for the influence of those who fear the Lord. Their
shops are closed, not because they take any interest in the Christian's
day of rest, but out of respect to custom. Sins, which now hide their
heads under the veil of night, would stalk through our streets with
barefaced impudence if once Christianity were withdrawn.
Bad as the customs of trade are, without the purifying power of the
godly, they would be infinitely worse. The whole fabric of our
commerce, politics and war, is manifestly affected for the better by
our religion. Let those, then, who do not feel its power, yet at least
think well of it for this fact–that it is a blessing to our country.
And while other nations have been rent with civil war, while revolution
has followed revolution and class has been set against class, the
religion of Jesus Christ has made our land a happy land and a land,
after all, in which there is more generous benevolence towards the
needy and more mutual sympathy than in any other kingdom or even in any
republic beneath the sky.
Thank God for true religion! Even if it does not convert a man, yet its
presence in his neighborhood tends to sober him and to keep him from
running into so great an excess of riot. This, however, is but
by-the-by. I plunge now at once into the subject before me.
My soul tonight yearns, as it did last Thursday night, to induce some
timid, seeking soul to make a venture of it and to come boldly to
Christ. Last Thursday night, you remember, we spoke of Esther and how
she said, "I will go in unto the king, which is not according to the
law, and if I perish, I perish." We tried to urge those of you who were
then present to do the same. We reminded you that though it was
contrary to law, yet it was not contrary to Gospel, and we therefore
bade you come, just as you were, into the presence of the Great
King–promising, on His behalf, that He would stretch out the golden
scepter to you. Tonight our line of things is precisely the same. Our
object is the same and we pray that we may have a greater blessing than
we did then.
There are three things in the text–first, mercy's report. Secondly,
misery's resolve. And thirdly, misery's reception.
I. First, then, MERCY'S REPORT. Down there is a dark cellar. In an
inner chamber, shut out from the light of day, with, perhaps, only a
fire or a candle to light him–we see the fugitive King. He who came up
from Syria with a hundred and fifty thousand men at his feet now
returns with but a handful of men left. He had sworn in his audacity
that he would take away Samaria by handfuls, that he would bring so
many men that each one should require to take but a handful and the
whole city of Samaria should be cast to the winds.
The king of Israel had simply replied, "Let not him that girds on his
harness boast himself as he that puts it off." There sits Ben-Hadad. He
reminds me of Napoleon after the flight from Waterloo, sitting down by
the fire in a peasant's cot, his boots and his gray coat covered with
mire and his face full of dark anxiety and gloomy fears–a man of iron,
but a man of rusted iron and worn by adversities. There sits Ben-Hadad.
But he is not like Napoleon, for his soul is cowed and broken and
humbled and subdued.
He who bragged so loudly is now a pitiful spectacle of meanness and
dismay. His servants whisper around the fallen king and their most
assuring word is a humbling one, "The kings of the house of Israel are
merciful kings." This is a sweet note to poor Ben-Hadad's ear. The
boastful king, who never dreamed of mercy to others, is now glad to
have half a chance of mercy for himself.
But I come to you tonight, not to whisper mercy. I come to you, who
have defied God and have been His enemies, but who now are broken
beneath His power, and my voice is no timid whisper made up of mingled
hope and fear. As ambassador from the God of Israel. I proclaim the
fullness of His mercy.
Thus run mercy's report. First, there is mercy. It is God's essential
attribute and He can never cease to be merciful. As long as He is God,
mercy will be one trait in His Divine Character. A God unmerciful were
not the God of Revelation. There is mercy yet. He has already opened
bags of mercy and scattered the golden treasure lavishly among the
forlorn beggars at His footstool. But there are bags untied yet, sealed
up still with the red seal of the Covenant–bags of mercy, I say, yet
unused. You have not exhausted the loving kindness of Jehovah. You have
required much, you have pressed the exchequer of God's mercy to a great
extent, but its coffers are deep as the sea. No–deep as the gates of
Hell–
"Deep as your helpless miseries are, And boundless as your sins."
Mercy is not dead. It lives still–yes, lives in its ancient strength
and riches of glory. Mercy is not drained. It flows evermore towards
the sons of men. There is mercy. There is mercy!
My proclamation certifies to you, O trembling Heart, that this mercy is
tender mercy. Your bones are broken tonight, your heart is wounded,
your spirits are dried up and you are ready to despair. But I tell you
that God has tender mercy for such as you are. As I sat in the hospital
yesterday and saw the many cases of maimed limbs and gushing wounds, I
could but think how tender the nurses ought to be and how downy should
be the surgeon's finger as he set the broken bones or bound up the
sores.
Doubtless there are some persons who have iron hands and hard hearts
and so, while they are bone-setting or binding up wounds, they do it
roughly and cause the patient much pain. But, O Sinner, here is the
tender mercy of our God set forth, which, like a day spring from on
high, has visited us! "A bruised reed will He not break, nor quench the
smoking flax." He crowns us with loving kindnesses and with tender
mercies. He binds up the broken in heart and heals all their wounds.
Like as a mother comforts her children, even so does the Lord comfort
His people. And like as a father pities His children, so the Lord
pities them that fear Him. My Lord is as gracious in the manner of His
mercy as in the matter of it. Glory be to His name! O Sinner, come to
the gentle Jesus and live!
There is great mercy. There is nothing little in my God. His mercy is
like Himself–it is infinite. You cannot measure it. You may mount in
the balloon of your imagination, but you cannot reach to the firmament
of His mercy. "As high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are
His thoughts above your thoughts and His ways above your ways." Your
sin is of great measure, but there is no measure to His Grace. His
mercy is so great that it forgives great sins to great sinners, after
great lengths of time–and then gives great favors and great privileges
and raises us up to great enjoyments in the great Heaven of the great
God.
As John Bunyan well says –"It must be great mercy or no mercy, for
little mercy will never serve my turn." Do you feel that, burdened
Conscience, do you feel that? In God there is great mercy for the
harlot, for the drunkard, for the thief, for the whoremonger, for the
adulterer and such like. Here is great mercy, which, like a great flood
bursting upwards, shall cover the highest mountains of your sins. The
bath of blood is opened for crimson stains. The Great Physician died to
heal the foulest disease and He lives as Intercessor, to save to the
uttermost them that come unto God by Him.
Hear me again, O troubled Conscience, the mercy of my Lord is rich
mercy. Some things are great, but have little efficacy in them, like
wine mingled with water–they cannot revive the fainting. But every
drop of the mercy of my God is worth a Heaven. Let but a drop of this
mercy fall upon a soul and it shall be enough to save it. It is rich,
unutterably rich mercy. When you get this mercy it will be a cordial to
your drooping spirits. It shall be a golden ointment to your bleeding
wounds. It shall be a heavenly bandage to your broken bones. It shall
be a royal chariot for your weary feet. It shall be a bosom of love for
your trembling heart. It is rich mercy.
I cannot tell you what the mercy of God would not do. Nor can I tell
you all that it would do. I cannot tell you what it would not do, for I
know of no good thing which it would refuse. I cannot tell you all it
would do for the catalogue is too long and Watts did not exaggerate,
when he said–
"But O! Eternity's too short To utter half its praise."
Mercy, rich mercy! The Lord does not give away halfpence in the
streets. He does not open His door and throw out bones half-picked, and
broken crusts, and dry, stale meat. But He opens the door and bids His
heralds cry, "My oxen and My fatlings are killed, come to the supper!
"He does not distribute pebbles, but diamonds and gems of priceless
cost– bought, not with corruptible things as with silver and gold–but
with the precious blood of Jesus.
No, so rich is this mercy, that Heaven had only one Koh-i-noor, one
"mountain of light," and God gave that. That diamond, that glittering
diamond–his Only-Begotten Son–sparkles with light upon the bosom of
forgiven sinners. O the depths of the mercy and goodness of the Lord!
But our proclamation is not concluded yet. In fact we have but begun.
There is in God, according to the express word of Scripture, manifold
mercy. What a fine word that is! Do you understand it? Many-fold mercy!
Here I open one fold of it and I find remission for transgressions
past. I open another and I find pardon for sins to come. I open the
next and I find constraining mercy to lead me into the paths of
righteousness. No, I find that the folds are more than I can count. I
cannot possibly reckon up the innumerable mercies which are wrapped up
one within another.
As John Bunyan says, all the flowers in God's garden are double. There
is no single mercy–no, they are not only double flowers–they are
manifold flowers. There are many flowers upon one stalk and many
flowers in one flower. You shall think you have but one mercy, but you
shall find it to be a whole flock of mercies! Our Beloved is unto us a
bundle of myrrh, a cluster of camphire. When you lay hold upon one
golden link of the chain of Divine Grace, you pull, pull, pull, but lo,
as long as your hand can draw there are fresh "linked sweets" of love
still to come. Manifold mercies!
Like the drops of a luster, which reflect a rainbow of colors when the
sun is glittering upon them and each one, when turned in different
ways, from its prismatic form shows all the varieties of color, so the
mercy of God is one and yet many, the same yet ever changing, a
combination of all the beauties of love blended harmoniously together.
You have only to look at mercy in that light and that light and that
light, to see how rich, how manifold it is. Poor Sinner, does not this
talk suit you? Why, if there are many folds, there is a fold for you.
And if your case seems to be an extraordinary one and you have manifold
sins and manifold sorrows, here are manifold mercies to suit you!
Perhaps your mercy is in the last fold and the devil wants to prevent
its being opened, but God never had a mercy yet which He did not,
sooner or later, give to the one for whom He had predestinated it. And
He will give mercy yet to you.
Notice further, that as it is manifold mercy, so it is abounding mercy.
The farther we go down the stream of mercy, the deeper it becomes and
the broader it grows. God's mercy, instead of being exhausted by all He
has given away, is still as fresh as ever. I say, Soul, God has given
away enough mercy to save millions of spirits who are now in Heaven and
yet
He has as much mercy now as when He began! His giving does by no means
impoverish Him. I suppose that the shining of the sun, though the fact
cannot be seen by us, does diminish the store of light in that great
luminary. But it is not so with the shining of God's mercy. I suppose
that when I breathe the air, though none can tell it, there is so much
less of good oxygen for others to breathe.
But when I breathe God's mercy, there is just as much left as there was
before. If you take a cupful of water out of the ocean, you cannot see
the difference, but there certainly is that cupful less in the sea. But
when you take what mercy you will out of this Divine sea, this
shoreless ocean of mercy–there is just as much left as when you first
came. You see then, O Sinner, that the Lord has super-abounding mercy,
and therefore, if your sin has gone on multiplying, His mercy has done
the same.
The mathematician will tell you that numbers, in the process of
multiplication, will mount to figures so vast that only the calculating
machine can give what the number will be, and even then, when the
figures stand in a long row, man may look at them, but he will have no
idea of what the figures mean. But if you had a calculating machine and
all the calculating machines that ever were, put together, you could
not calculate the extent of the super-abounding mercy of God in Christ
Jesus–enough for every seeking soul forever.
Poor, trembling Soul, let the silver trumpet ring this good news in
your ears that this is mercy which will never leave you. "Surely
goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life." If you get
mercy tonight, you have obtained mercy forever. If mercy is your friend
this evening, mercy will be with you in temptation to keep you from
yielding–with you in your troubles to prevent you from sinking under
them. Mercy will be with you living, to be the light and life of your
countenance. And mercy will be with you dying, to be the joy of your
soul in your last moments. "He that trusts in the Lord, mercy shall
compass him about."
You shall have ranks and files of mercies, before and behind and on
every side of you. You shall have the mercy which endures forever. I
cannot think what Arminians make of that Psalm–"His mercy endures
forever." They think that we can exhaust God's mercy, that a child of
God once saved can yet lose the mercy of God by his sin. Beloved, let
us never indulge such a thought! For the God who began to be merciful
to us will be merciful to us even unto the end, and that end shall be
without end.
Sinner, have you heard this proclamation? It is not yet finished. Let
me tell you that the mercy of God flows freely. It wants no money and
no price from you, no fitness of frames and feelings, no preparation of
good works or penitence. Free as the brook which leaps from the
mountainside, at which every weary traveler may drink, so free is the
mercy of God. Free as the sun that shines and gilds the mountain's brow
and makes glad the valleys without fee or reward–so free is the mercy
of God to every needy sinner. Free as the air which belts the earth and
penetrates the peasant's cottage as well as the royal palace without
purchase or premium–so free is the mercy of God in Christ.
It tarries not for you. It comes to you as you are. It waylays you in
love. It meets you in tenderness. Ask not how you shall get it! You
need not climb to Heaven, nor descend to Hell for it. The Word is near
you–on your lips and in your heart. If you believe on the Lord Jesus
with your heart and with your mouth make confession of Him, you shall
be saved. If, as guilty, you will accept the great Atonement and be
washed therein, rejoice O Heaven, and sing O earth, for the sinner is
saved! Saved through abounding mercy.
It is mercy fresh and strong tonight! Mercy ready for you while that
clock is ticking! Mercy which has followed you to this, your eleventh
hour, and waits for you on the borders of the grave. It is mercy which
will not easily take a denial from you, but pleads with you now,
tonight. Sinner, may the Spirit of God come forth with that energy
which raised Jesus from the dead and make you say, "Lord, I would be
saved by Your mercy! God be merciful to me a sinner."
This is mercy's report. O that my lips could tell it better! May God
open Your ears to hear it and to believe it. Pause a moment that those
in whom the Holy Spirit is working may breathe a silent prayer–and
then let us advance to the second head.
II. MISERY'S RESOLVE. You will come with me into that inner chamber and
look at Ben-Hadad for a moment. Where are you now, Ben-Hadad? Where are
your legions now? Where now the flaunting banners–the proud glory of
Syria? You are broken in pieces–broken as a ship when the rough north
wind has cast aside her mast and shattered all her sails. Where are you
now? "Mock not at my misery," the king replies, "I have heard that the
kings of Israel are merci- ful. If I sit here I shall be slain by some
fierce trooper. I will bestir myself, something must be done. I will
get me unto the king of Israel."
Note then, first, that Ben-Hadad saw the necessity of direct and
immediate action. Misery, where are you? In yonder sinner have you
taken up your lodging? I would gladly do you service, and therefore
will I speak. Sinner, if you sit still, you must die. You are like the
prodigal, your money is spent. You have wasted your substance in
riotous living. You have fed the swine and you have tried to feed on
their husks, but you cannot fill your belly with them. If you stay
among those swine troughs, you will die–you will perish of hunger.
Even now your gaunt limbs stare at you and your bare bones rebuke you.
Man, it is time for you to say, "I will arise. I will arise." O my
Hearers, I fear that a deadly sleep has fallen upon some of you! You
are in sin and you know it, but you take no action about it. The
trembling of the jailer when he said, "What must I do to be saved?" has
not seized hold on you. You are in the Enchanted Ground and, like
Heedless and Too-bold, you are asleep upon the seats of the arbor. And
when shaken in your slumber, you dreamily mutter, "A little more sleep,
a little more slumber, a little more folding of the hands."
Oh, if you knew how near you are to the gates of death! I feel with
trembling that my speech is prophetic to someone here. If you knew, O
immortal Soul, how soon the curtain shall be drawn! How in a moment you
shall see the now invisible God face to face, you would shake like an
aspen leaf in your seat tonight. As the Lord my God lives, there is but
a step between you and death. "Set your house in order. For you must
die, and not live." May the Holy Spirit bestir you to take direct
action! Immediate action!!
There is no time to waste. The sun has gone down and it may never rise
on you again. The harvest is past and the summer is ended and you are
not saved. For you there will be no beaming spring, no blooming summer
of next year. But the cold sod shall cover you and the daisy shall
bloom above your grave. "Prepare to meet your God, O Israel." Thus says
the Lord unto you–"Because I will do this, consider your ways."–
"Haste, traveler, haste. The night comes on,
And many a shining hour is gone.
The storm is gathering in the west,
And you far off from home and rest.
Haste, traveler, haste.
Then linger not in all the plain,
Flee for your life, the mountain gain.
Look not behind, make no delay,
O speed you–speed you on your way.
Haste, traveler, haste.
Poor, lost benighted Soul, are you
Willing to find salvation now?
There yet is hope, hear Mercy's call,
Truth, life, light, way, in Christ is all–
Hasten to Him, haste."
If you are what I take you to be tonight–one sent here that God may
save you–you will, tonight, begin to cry unto God and will, tonight,
seek Him who looses the seven stars and turns the shadow of death into
the morning. Soul, tonight, lay hold upon the hem of Jesus' garment and
make a Covenant with Him that you may be saved.
Come again with me down into that dreary vault and we will see
Ben-Hadad again. He is in his dressing room. Let us not intrude upon
the king in his dressing room. Surely he is putting on his imperial
purple and placing his crown upon his head, is he not? Ah, a strange
dressing room this and a singular dressing room. He has a rope, such a
rope as men hang dogs with, and he puts it upon his neck. And as for
his loins, the dainty garments of Egyptian fine linen are all laid
aside and he wraps himself about with a piece of an old sack and then
he scatters ashes upon himself. Fit dressing room for a vanquished
supplicant!
Ah, Sinner, Sinner, there is wisdom here! If you would come before God
in Christ, betake you to your dressing room. Not to trim yourself, not
to make yourself dainty and fair. Not to perfume yourself with choice
essences of self-righteousness–not to gird yourself with sumptuous
apparel. No, no, in your case the words of Isaiah 3 have a spiritual
meaning–"In that day the Lord will take away the finery: The jingling
anklets, the scarves, and the crescents. The pendants, the bracelets,
and the veils. The headdresses, the leg ornaments, and the headbands;
The perfume boxes, the charms, and the rings; The nose jewels, the
festal apparel, and the mantles. The outer garments, the purses, and
the mirrors. The fine linen, the turbans, and the robes. And so it
shall be: Instead of a sweet smell there will be a stench. Instead of a
sash, a rope. Instead of well-set hair, baldness. Instead of a rich
robe, a girding of sackcloth. And branding instead of beauty."
The finery is all gone–not a rag left–not an ornament spared. Sinner,
it is so with you! Your proper array is the sackcloth of repentance and
the rope of acknowledgment that you deserve to die. Man, I say, and let
this be the first act you do–confess that you are vile. Come! Off with
that fine garment. I know you have been to Church twice every Sunday
for the last few years, but away with that, away with that–trust not
to that. I know that you were sprinkled in your infancy and have been
confirmed since. But trust not in these observances, for all such
confidence shall be but as a phantom and a dream of the night.
I know that you have attended this Tabernacle ever since it was built
and listened to our ministry for years. But boast not of that! Away
with that as a ground of trust–pull off that garment. You have never
failed in business. You have brought up your children well. You never
swear. You were never a drunkard–midnight orgies never saw you mixed
up in them. This is well, but I pray you, put not on this as your
proper dress–the proper dress for a sinner to go to Christ in is
sackcloth and the rope.
"Well," says one, "I never will acknowledge that I deserve to be
damned!" Then you never will be saved. "Well," says another, "I never
will take the language of a great sinner upon my lips." Then you shall
never be saved. For unless you are willing to confess that God may
justly damn you, God will never save you. But, by God's Grace, if you
feel in your heart tonight that if He sends your soul to Hell, His
righteous Law approves it well, if you wonder how it is that you are
not in the pit and marvel why such mercy should have been shown to
you–come, Brother, come–come as you are, for you wear the true
court-dress of a Sinner!
When a beggar goes out to beg at the door, should he put on a new black
coat and a clean white cravat and kid gloves? No, verily, let him
clothe himself in tatters–the more rents he has the better–for
tatters are the livery of a beggar and rags are the court-dress of a
mendicant. So, come in your sins! Come in your doubts! Come in your
hardness of heart! Come in your impenitence! Come in your deadness!
Come in your lethargy! Come as you are–foul, vile, filthy, waiting for
no amendment, but with a rope upon your neck and a garment of sackcloth
about your loins! Come now, come now! God help you to come–
"Come, needy and guilty! Come, loathsome and bare! Though leprous and
filthy, Come just as you are."
We will follow Ben-Hadad and hear the king at his prayers. He has come
before the king of Israel and he has a petition to offer. What will it
be? Bring the big book–turn to the collect for Quinquagesima
Sunday–will not that suit him? Will not our beautiful liturgy serve
his turn? No, no! Living souls must have living words and their own
words, too, for I cannot adopt another man's petition. They must be my
own children, sprung from my own loins. The dead soul may parrot out a
printed prayer, but the living soul pants to be rid of such
tag-rags–such bondage. The living spirit can no more be content with a
mere form of prayer, than the blazing, flaming comet could be chained,
belted and held fast in prison.
It must have words of its own. Well, but it will be a very fine
extemporary prayer, will it not–five-and-twenty minutes' long–an
orthodox, Nonconformist supplication? Oh, dear no! These long, dry,
prosy prayers suit dead souls, but living souls want something more
burning, more full of fire! When they come before the Lord, they cannot
pray in that fashion, but this is the way–"Your servant Ben-Hadad
says, I pray you, let me live." Ah, that is the Sinner's prayer– "Your
servant says, I pray You, let me live." Why, there is not one awakened
person here who cannot pray such a prayer as that!
That suits the clown in his roughness and it may suit and must suit the
peer in his politeness. However dull the intellect, this prayer can be
understood. And however high the perceptions, this prayer can reach our
desires to the full extent–"Your servant says, I pray You, let me
live." John, John, pray in this form–"Your servant John says, I pray
You, let me live." Jane, put it so–"Your servant Jane says, I pray
You, let me live." Ah, that is the sort of prayer–"God be merciful to
me a sinner."
If a man should meet you in the street as you walked along and should
say, "If you please, Sir, wait a minute," and should then draw out of
his pocket a long roll and proceed to read to you a fine, well-written
oration–well, however beautifully it might be put together, he might
have a quotation from the "Rambler," or sentences like those of the
flowing Addison, but you would say, "Yes, yes, but I have not time to
listen to that, Sir." But suppose that as you were going along, a man
came to you and said, "Sir, I am starving. I pray you, for God's sake,
help me"? Then you know what you are at and if your hand does not go
into your purse very soon, it is only because you may suspect him of
being an impostor–but you know that this is the kind of language which
moves the human heart.
How does your child come to you when he wants anything? Does he open a
big book and begin reading, "My dear, esteemed and venerated parent. In
the effulgence of your parental goodness"? Nothing of the kind. He
says, "Father, my clothes are worn out, please buy me a new coat." Or
else he says, "I am hungry, let me have something to eat." That is the
way to pray and there is no prayer which God accepts but that kind of
prayer–right straight from the heart, and right straight to God's
heart. We miss the mark when we go about to gather gaudy words.
What? Gaudy words on the lips of a poor sinner? Fine phrases from a
rebel? There is more true eloquence in, "God be merciful to me a
sinner," than in all the books of devotion which bishops and
archbishops and Divines ever compiled. "Your servant Ben-Hadad says, I
pray you, let me live." I feel inclined to stop and ask you to bow your
heads in your pews and pray that prayer–"O God, Your servant says, I
pray You, let me live. O cut me not down as a cumberer of the ground,
but let me live. I am dead in trespasses and sins, quicken me, O Lord,
and let me live. And when You come to slay the wicked on the earth, I
pray You, let me live. And when You shall destroy the ungodly and sweep
them with the besom of destruction into the pit that is bottomless, I
pray You, let me live."
You see there is not a word of merit. There is nothing about what man
has done. Ben-Hadad only calls himself a servant. "Make me as one of
your hired servants. Your servant says, I pray you, let me live." He
does not ask for honor, or wealth, or station–
"Wealth and honor I disdain, Earthly comforts, Lord, are vain. These
can never satisfy, Give me Christ, or else I die."
Christ, Christ, Christ! Give me Christ! "Your servant says, I pray You,
let me live."
Well now, we have gone as far as we ought to do, I suppose, in
intruding on the king's privacy, but I wish he would let me look in his
right hand. I wonder what that is which he carries there? He has
doubtless there some warrant for his prayer, some ground for expecting
that he will find grace in the sight of his enemy. Let us open his
hand. What is it? Why, I can hardly see it, it is so little. Let us
bring it to the light and look at it. Yes, I see it, it is only a
little "perhaps." It says–"Perhaps he may save your life." That is
all–a little "perhaps," and yet, with nothing but this to carry in his
hands, he ventured to go, with the rope upon his neck, to the king of
Israel.
Sinner, I will give you something more than that to go with. I should
not like to go into the Bank of England with only a perhaps in my hand,
with a note saying that perhaps the cashier would give me ten pounds. I
am afraid, I am afraid that my perhaps would not be good for much. But
I should not mind going there with a promissory note signed with a good
name. Sinner, here is a promise for you. Here is one. "Come now, let us
reason together, says the Lord"–there is the signature– "Though your
sins are as scarlet, they shall be as wool, though they are red like
crimson, they shall be whiter than snow."
That is better then "perhaps," is it not? Here is another–"The blood
of Jesus Christ, God's dear Son, cleans us from all sin." Is not that
better than "perhaps"? Here is another–"All manner of sin and
blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men." Surely that is better than
"perhaps." Here is another–"The Spirit and the bride say, Come. And
let him that hears say, Come. And let him that is athirst, come. And
whoever will, let him take the water of life freely." Is not that
better than "perhaps"? Go then, Soul, go to the King and you shall meet
with a gracious reception.
III. The third head is MISERY'S RECEPTION. We have been with Ben-Hadad
in the vault and now we will go with him to the palace. He marches
along, doleful and dolorous all the way till he gets into the presence
of the king. His servants, who are round about him, are all straining
their ears to catch a word from the king and the first word they get is
a kind enquiry– "Is he yet alive?" Ah, there was something in that.
And so if you are coming to the King, my Lord begins to say–"What?
Sinner, are you yet alive?
Why, that is the wretch who thought he would blow his brains out, is he
yet alive? Why, that is the sinner who ran his body into such an excess
of sin that he well-near killed himself–is he yet alive? What? That
sinner who for years never had a good thought, is there a tear in his
eye tonight? Does he begin to live? Is he yet alive? That man who has
heard sermon after sermon and never felt under one, does he begin to
feel tonight? Is he yet alive? What? That man who despised a mother's
prayers and rejected a father's intercessions?
The man who has been at sea and shipwreck has not softened him–who has
had the yellow fever in the West Indies and that has not brought him
down–what? Does he begin to feel tonight? Is there some motion of the
Spirit in him? Are there some yearnings after God? Is he yet alive?"
See how kind is the enquiry. My Master seems to look out of my eyes
tonight and as He weeps over you He cries–"How can I give you up,
Ephraim? How can I deliver you, Israel? How shall I set you as Admah?
How shall I make you as Zeboim? My heart is moved, my repentings are
kindled together. I will not destroy him, for I am God and not man."
The next word of the king of Israel is suggestive, "He is my brother."
I think I see the gleam of pleasure which went over the poor courtiers
faces as they heard it. If the king had said some hard word, they might
have heard it with grief, but when he said–"He is my brother," they
whispered to one another–"My brother? My brother Ben-Hadad? Why, that
vile Ben-Hadad had threatened this king with all sorts of mischief. He
deserved nothing but death in return."
When the Israelite king was in great necessities, Ben-Hadad sent to
demand of him his wife and his children, and all that he had. And when
the king volunteered to acknowledge that Ben-Hadad was his sovereign
lord and that they were his, Ben-Hadad ordered him to send immediately
the best of his wives and the best of his children, and when the king
would not do that, Ben-Hadad said–"The gods do so unto me, and more
also, if the dust of Samaria shall suffice for handfuls for all the
people that follow me." Hear the boaster! How dare he use such
insulting language to the king of Israel?
And yet here is this king of Israel now saving–"He is my brother"!
What, brother to such a scoundrel, such a braggart, such a tyrant, such
a thief, such a rapacious robber, who would rake the whole world and
spoil a man's house and rob his bed–brother to him? Yes, says Ahab,
"He is my brother." Well, I do not admire that in the king of Israel,
but I do admire it in my Lord Jesus, that he should turn round to a
black sinner and say, "He is my Brother. I am his elder Brother. He is
a child of God, accented in the Beloved. He is heir of God and joint
heir with Me, of all things." Well, trembling, quickened Sinner, what
do you think of this, that Jesus Christ is your Brother? Have you no
love towards Him?
Why surely if you are a convicted and awakened sinner, the thought of
your adoption into the Lord's family, of your being the Brother of
Christ, will make the tears roll down your cheeks and you will say,
"How could I have offended against such a Lord? Lord, let me live for
my Brother's sake." The next thing the king of Israel did was to take
Ben-Hadad up into his chariot. Ahab lets his bragging adversary ride
with him in his carriage. And Jesus will take you up into His Church,
no, into His heart, into the chariot of His Grace and you shall ride
with Him even through the streets of Heaven, amidst universal
acclamations.
He did one thing more, he made a covenant with him. God makes a
Covenant with sinners in the Person of Christ. He gave Him to be a
Covenant for His people, a leader and commander to His people. And
those hearts who are led by Grace to accept the mercy of God in Christ
Jesus, know that this is the result of a Covenant made before the world
began by God with elect sinners in the Person of Christ Jesus. O
Sinner, such is the infinite mercy of God that the very thought of it
should make you weep!
I have known the time when I thought God would never have mercy on me,
and yet the thought of His love to other people would bring the tears
to my eyes. I could not help saying once, I remember, that I would love
God even if He damned me, because He was so gracious to others.
Something of that emotion ought to be in your soul and if there is,
then methinks it must be a work of Divine Grace. If you begin to be in
love with the mercy of God, it is because the mercy of God is in love
with you.
O poor Soul, mercy is to be had for the asking. It is to be had on no
terms and no conditions except these–"He that believes and is
baptized, shall be saved." Trust Jesus! Trust Jesus just as you are for
everything, and you are saved. And we will meet again in that land
where they wear no sackcloth on their loins, nor ropes upon their
necks–but where their heads are crowned with immortal honor and their
bodies are robed in immortality.
Christ is the way, the truth and the life. Look to Him, all you ends of
the earth, look to Him and live! The Lord enable you to do so, for
Jesus' sake. Amen.