How To Keep the Heart
A Sermon
(No. 180)
Delivered on Sabbath Evening, February 21, 1858, by the
REV. C.H. SPURGEON
At New Park Street Chapel, Southwark.
"The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your
hearts and minds, through Christ Jesus."–Philippians 4:7.
IT IS REMARKABLE, that when we find an exhortation given to God's
people in one part of the Holy Scripture, we almost invariably find the
very thing which they are exhorted to do guaranteed to them, and
provided for them, in some other part of the same blessed volume. This
morning, my text was, "Keep the heart with all diligence, for out of it
are the issues of life." Now, this evening we have the promise upon
which we must rest, if we desire to fulfill the precept:–"The peace of
God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds,
through Christ Jesus."
This evening we shall use another figure, distinct from the one used in
the morning, of the reservoir. We shall use the figure of a fortress,
which is to be kept. And the promise saith that it shall be kept–kept
by "the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, through Christ
Jesus."
Inasmuch as the heart is the most important part of man–for out of it
are the issues of life–it would be natural to expect that Satan, when
he intended to do mischief to manhood, would be sure to make his
strongest and most perpetual attacks upon the heart. What we might have
guessed in wisdom, is certainly true in experience; for although Satan
will tempt and try us in every way, though every gate of the town of
Mansoul may be battered, though, against every part of the walls
thereof he will be sure to bring out his great guns, yet the place
against which he levels his deadliest malice, and his most furious
strength, is the heart. Into the heart, already of itself evil enough,
he thrusts the seeds of every evil thing, and doth his utmost to make
it a den of unclean birds, a garden of poisonous trees, a river flowing
with destructive water. Hence, again, arises the second necessity that
we should be doubly cautious in keeping the heart with all diligence;
for if, on the one hand, it be the most important, and, on the other
hand, Satan, knowing this, makes his most furious and determined
attacks against it, then, with double force the exhortation comes,
"Keep thy heart with all diligence." And the promise also becomes
doubly sweet, from the very fact of the double danger–the promise
which says, "The peace of God shall keep your hearts and minds through
Christ Jesus our Lord."
We shall notice, first of all, that which keeps the heart and mind.
Secondly, we shall note how to obtain it–for we are to understand this
promise as connected with certain precepts which come before it. And
then, when we have had this, we shall try to show how it is true that
the peace of God does keep the mind free from the attacks of Satan, or
delivers it from those attacks when they are made.
I. First, then, beloved, the preservation which God in this promise
confers upon the saints, is "THE PEACE OF GOD WHICH PASSETH ALL
UNDERSTANDING," to keep us through Jesus Christ. It is called PEACE;
and we are to understand this in a double sense. There is a peace of
God which exists between the child of God, and God his Judge, a peace
which may be truly said to pass all understanding. Jesus Christ has
offered so all-sufficient a satisfaction for all the claims of injured
justice, that now God hath no fault to find with his children. "He
seeth no sin in Jacob, nor iniquity in Israel;" nor is he angry with
them on account of their sins–a peace unbroken, and unspeakable being
established by the atonement which Christ hath made on their behalf.
Hence flows a peace experienced in the conscience, which is the second
part of this peace of God: for, when the conscience sees that God is
satisfied, and is no longer at war with it, then it also becomes
satisfied with man; and conscience, which was wont to be a great
disturber of the peace of the heart, now gives its verdict of
acquittal, and the heart sleeps in the arms of conscience, finds a
quiet resting-place there. Against the child of God conscience brings
no accusation, or if it brings the accusation, it is but a gentle
one–a gentle chiding of a loving friend, who hints that we have done
amiss; and that we had better change, but doth not afterward thunder in
our ears the threat of a penalty. Conscience knows full well that peace
is made betwixt the soul and God, and, therefore, it does not hint that
there is anything else but joy and peace to be looked forward to by the
believer. Do we understand anything of this double peace? Let us pause
here, and ask ourselves a question upon this doctrinal part of the
matter–Let us make it an experimental question with our own
hearts:–"Come, my soul, art thou at peace with God? Hast thou seen thy
pardon signed and sealed with the Redeemer's blood? Come, answer this,
my heart; hast thou cast thy sins upon the head of Christ, and hast
thou seen them all washed away in the crimson streams of blood? Canst
thou feel that now there is a lasting peace between thyself and God, so
that, come what may, God shall not be angry with thee–shall not
condemn thee shall not consume thee in his wrath, nor crush thee in his
hot displeasure? If it be so, then, my heart, thou canst scarcely need
to stop and ask the second question–Is my conscience at peace? For, if
my heart condemn me not, God is greater than my heart, and doth know
all things; if my conscience bears witness with me, that I am a
partaker of the precious grace of salvation, then happy am I! I am one
of those to whom God hath given the peace which passeth all
understanding. Now, why is this called "the peace of God?" We suppose
it is because it comes from God–because it was planned by God–because
God gave his Son to make the peace–because God gives his Spirit to
give the peace in the conscience–because, indeed, it is God himself in
the soul, reconciled to man, whose is the peace. And while it is true
that this man shall have the peace–even the Man-Christ, yet we know it
is because he was the God-Christ that he was our peace. And hence we
may clearly perceive how Godhead is mixed up with the peace which we
enjoy with our Maker, and with our conscience.
Then we are told that it is "the peace of God which passeth all
understanding." What does he mean by this? He means such a peace, that
the understanding can never understand it, can never attain to it. The
understanding of mere carnal man can never comprehend this peace. He
who tries with a philosophic look to discover the secret of the
Christian's peace, finds himself in a maze. "I know not how it is, nor
why it is," saith he; "I see these men hunted through the earth; I turn
the pages of history, and I find them hunted to their graves. They
wandered about in sheepskins and goat skins, destitute, afflicted, and
tormented; yet, I also see upon the Christian's brow a calm serenity. I
can not understand this; I do not know what it is. I know that I
myself, even in my merriest moments, am disturbed; that when my
enjoyments run the highest, still there are waves of doubt and fear
across my mind. Then why is this? How is it that the Christian can
attain a rest so calm, so peaceful, and so quiet?" Understanding can
never get to that peace which the Christian hath attained. The
philosopher may teach us much; he can never give us rules whereby to
reach the peace that Christians have in their conscience. Diogenes may
tell us to do without everything, and may live in his tub, and then
think himself happier than Alexander, and that he enjoys peace; but we
look upon the poor creature after all, and though we may be astonished
at his courage, yet we are obliged to despise his folly. We do not
believe that even when he had dispensed with everything, he possessed a
quiet of mind, a total and entire peace, such as the true believer can
enjoy. We find the greatest philosophers of old laying down maxims for
life, which they thought would certainly promote happiness. We find
that they were not always able to practise them themselves, and many of
their disciples, when they labored hard to put them in execution, found
themselves encumbered with impossible rules to accomplish impossible
objects. But the Christian man does with faith what a man can never do
himself. While the poor understanding is climbing up the craigs, faith
stands on the summit; while the poor understanding is getting into a
calm atmosphere, faith flies aloft and mounts higher than the storm,
and then looks down on the valley, and smiles while the tempest blows
beneath its feet. Faith goes further than understanding, and the peace
which the Christian enjoys is one which the worldling can not
comprehend, and can not himself attain. "The peace of God, which
passeth all understanding."
And this peace is said to "keep the mind through Christ Jesus." Without
Christ Jesus this peace would not exist; without Christ Jesus this
peace, even where it has existed, can not be maintained. Daily visits
from the Saviour, continual lookings by the eye of faith to him who
bled upon the cross, continual drawings from his ever-flowing fountain,
make this peace broad, and long, and enduring. But take Jesus Christ,
the channel of our peace away, and it fades and dies, and droops, and
comes to naught. A Christian hath no peace with God except through the
atonement of his Lord Jesus Christ.
I have thus gone over what some will call the dry doctrinal part of the
subject–"The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep
your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." I can not show you what
that peace is, if you have never felt it; but yet I think I could tell
you where to look for it, for I have sometimes seen it. I have seen the
Christian man in the depths of poverty, when he lived from hand to
mouth, and scarcely knew where he should find the next meal, still with
his mind unruffled, calm, and quiet. If he had been as rich as an
Indian prince, yet could he not have had less care; if he had been told
that his bread should always come to his door, and the stream which ran
hard by should never dry–if he had been quite sure that ravens would
bring him bread and meat in the morning, and again in the evening, he
would not have been one whit more calm. There is his neighbor on the
other side of the street not half so poor, but wearied from morning to
night, working his fingers to the bone, bringing himself to the grave
with anxiety; but this poor good man, after having industriously
labored, though he found he had gained little with all his toil, yet
hath sanctified his little by prayer, and hath thanked his Father for
what he had; and though he doth not know whether he will have more,
still he trusted in God, and declared that his faith should not fail
him, though providence should run to a lower ebb than he had ever seen.
There is "the peace of God which passeth all understanding." I have
seen that peace, too, in the case of those who have lost their friends.
There is a widow–her much-loved husband lies in the coffin; she is
soon to part with him. Parted with him she has before: but now, of his
poor clay-cold corpse–even of that she has to be bereaved. She looks
upon it for the last time, and her heart is heavy. For herself and her
children, she thinks how they shall be provided for. That broad tree
that once sheltered them from the sunbeam has been cut down. Now, she
thinks there is a broad heaven above her head, and her Maker is her
husband; the fatherless children are left with God for their father,
and the widow is trusting in him. With tears in her eyes she still
looks up, and she says, "Lord, thou hast given and thou hast taken
away, blessed be thy name." Her husband is carried to the tomb; she
doth not smile, but though she weeps, there is a calm composure on her
brow, and she tells you she would not have it otherwise, even if she
could, for Jehovah's will is right. There, again, is "the peace of God
that passeth all understanding." Picture another man. There is Martin
Luther standing up in the midst of the Diet of Worms; there are the
kings and the princes, and there are the bloodhounds of Rome with their
tongues thirsting for his blood–there is Martin rising in the morning
as comfortable as possible, and he goes to the Diet, and delivers
himself of the truth, solemnly declares that the things which he has
spoken are the things which he believes, and God helping him he will
stand by them till the last. There is his life in his hands; they have
him entirely in their power. The smell of John Huss's corpse has not
yet passed away, and he recollects that princes before this have
violated their words; but there he stands, calm and quiet; he fears no
man, for he has naught to fear; "the peace of God which passeth all
understanding" keeps his heart and mind through Jesus Christ. There is
an other scene: there is John Bradford in Newgate. He is to be burned
the next morning in Smithfield, and he swings himself on the bedpost in
very glee, and delights, for to-morrow is his wedding-day; and he says
to another, "Fine shining we shall make to-morrow, when the flame is
kindled." And he smiles and laughs, and enjoys the very thought that he
is about to wear the blood-red crown of martyrdom. Is Bradford mad? Ah,
no; but he has got the peace of God that passeth all understanding. But
perhaps the most beautiful, as well as the most common illustration of
this sweet peace, is the dying bed of the believer. Oh, brethren, you
have seen this sometimes that calm, quiet serenity; you have said,
Lord, let us die with him. It has been so good to be in that solitary
chamber where all was quiet and so still, all the world shut out, and
heaven shut in, and the poor heart nearing its God, and far away from
all its past burdens and griefs–now nearing the portals of eternal
bliss. And ye have said, "How is this? Is not death a black and grim
thing? Are not the terrors of the grave things which make the strong
man tremble?" Oh yes, they are; but, then, this one has the "peace of
God which passeth all understanding." However, if you want to know
about this, you must be a child of God, and possess it yourselves; and
when you have once felt it, when you can stand calm amid the
bewildering cry, confident of victory, when you can sing in the midst
of the storm, when you can smile when surrounded by adversity, and can
trust your God, be your way never so rough, ne'er so stormy; when you
can always repose confidence in the wisdom and goodness of Jehovah,
then it is you will have "the peace of God which passeth all
understanding."
II. Thus we have discussed the first point, what is this peace? Now the
second thing was, HOW IS THIS PEACE TO BE OBTAINED? You will note that
although this is a promise, it hath precepts preceding, and it is only
by the practice of the precepts that we can get the promise. Turn now
to the fourth verse, and you will see the first rule and regulation for
getting peace. Christian, would you enjoy "the peace of God which
passeth all understanding?"
The first thing you have to do is to "rejoice evermore." The man who
never rejoices, but who is always sorrowing, and groaning, and crying,
who forgets his God, who forgets the fullness of Jehovah, and is always
murmuring concerning the trials of the road and the infirmities of the
flesh, that man will lose the prospect of enjoying a peace that passeth
all understanding. Cultivate, my friends, a cheerful disposition;
endeavor, as much as lieth in you, always to bear a smile about with
you; recollect that this is as much a command of God as that one which
says, "Thou shalt love the Lord with all thy heart." "Rejoice
evermore," is one of Godly commands; and it is your duty, as well as
your privilege, to try and practice it. Not to rejoice, remember, is a
sin. To rejoice is a duty, and such a duty that the richest fruits and
the best rewards are appended to it. Rejoice always, and then the peace
of God shall keep your hearts and minds. Many of us, by giving way to
disastrous doubts, spoil our peace. It is as I once remember to have
heard a woman say, when I was passing down a lane; a child stood crying
at the door, and I heard her calling out, "Ah, you are crying for
nothing; I will give you something to cry for." Brethren, it is often
so with God's children. They get crying for nothing. They have a
miserable disposition, or a turn of mind always making miseries for
themselves, and thus they have something to cry for. Their peace is
disturbed, some sad trouble comes, God hides his face, and then they
lose their peace. But keep on singing even when the sun does not keep
on shining; keep a song for all weathers; get a joy that will stand
clouds and storms; and then, when you know how always to rejoice, you
shall have this peace.
The next precept is, "Let your moderation be known unto all men." If
you would have peace of mind, be moderate. Merchant, you can not push
that speculation too far, and then have peace of mind. Young man, you
can not be so fast in trying to rise in the world, and yet have the
peace of God which passeth all understanding. You must be moderate, and
when you have got a moderation in your desires, then you shall have
peace. Sir, you with the red cheek, you must be moderate in your anger.
You must not be quite so fast in flying into a passion with your
fellows, and not quite so long in getting cool again; because the angry
man can not have peace in his conscience. Be moderate in that; let your
vengeance stay itself; for if you give way to wrath, if you are angry,
"be ye angry and sin not." Be moderate in this; be moderate in all
things which thou undertakes, Christian; moderate in your expectations.
Blessed is he who expects little, for he shall have but little
disappointment. Remember never to set thy desires very high. He that
has aspirations to the moon, will be disappointed if he only reaches
half as high; whereas, if he had aspired lower, he would be agreeably
disappointed when he found himself mounting higher than he first
expected. Keep moderation, whatsoever you do, in all things, but in
your desires after God; and so shall you obey the second precept, and
get the glimpse of this promise, "The peace of God shall keep your
hearts and minds through Jesus Christ."
The last precept that you have to obey is, "be careful for nothing, but
in every thing by prayer and supplication make known your requests unto
God." You can not have peace unless you turn your troubles up. You have
no place in which to pour your troubles except the ear of God. If you
tell them to your friends, you but put your troubles out a moment, and
they will return again. If you tell them to God, you put your troubles
into the grave; they will never rise again when you have committed them
to him. If you roll your burden anywhere else it will roll back again,
just like the stone of Sysiphus; but just roll your burden unto God,
and you have rolled it into a great deep, out of which it will never by
any possibility rise. Cast your troubles where you have cast your sins;
you have cast your sins into the depth of the sea, there cast your
troubles also. Never keep a trouble half an hour on your own mind
before you tell it to God. As soon as the trouble comes, quick, the
first thing, tell it to your father. Remember, that the longer you take
telling your trouble to God, the more your peace will be impaired. The
longer the frost lasts, the more likely the ponds will be frozen. Your
frost will last till you go to the sun; and when you go to God – the
sun, then your frost will soon become a thaw, and your troubles will
melt away. But do not be long, because the longer you are in waiting,
the longer will your trouble be in thawing afterwards. Wait a long time
till your troubles gets frozen thick and firm, and it will take many a
day of prayer to get your trouble thawed again. Away to the throne as
quick as ever you can. Do as the child did, when he ran and told his
mother as soon as his little trouble happened to him; run and tell your
Father the first moment you are in affliction. Do this in every thing,
in every little thing–"in every thing by prayer and supplication make
known your wants unto God." Take your husband's head-ache, take your
children's sicknesses, take all things, little family troubles as well
as great commercial trials–take them all to God; pour them all out at
once. And so by an obedient practice of this command in every thing
making known your wants unto God, you shall preserve that peace "which
shall keep your heart and mind through Jesus Christ."
These, then, are the precepts. May God the Holy Spirit enable us to
obey them, and we shall then have the continual peace of God.
III. Now, the third thing, was to show HOW THE PEACE, which I attempted
to describe in the first place, KEEPS THE HEART. You will clearly see
how this peace will keep the heart full. That man who has continued
peace with God, will not have an empty heart. He feels that God has
done so much for him that he must love his God. The eternal basis of
his peace lays in divine election–the solid pillars of his peace, the
incarnation of Christ, his righteousness, his death– the climax of his
peace, the heaven hereafter where his joy and his peace shall be
consummated; all these are subjects for grateful reflection, and will,
when meditated upon, cause more love. Now, where much love is, there is
a large heart and a full one. Keep, then, this peace with God, and thou
wilt keep thy heart full to the brim. And, remember, that in proportion
to the fullness of thine heart will be the fullness of thy life. Be
empty-hearted and thy life will be a meager, skeleton existence. Be
full-hearted, and thy life will be full, fleshy, gigantic, strong, a
thing that will tell upon the world. Keep, then, thy peace with God
firm within thee. Keep thou close to this, that Jesus Christ hath made
peace between thee and God. And keep thy conscience still; then shall
thy heart be full and thy soul strong to do thy Master's work. Keep thy
peace with God. This will keep thy heart pure. Thou wilt say if
temptation comes, "What dost thou offer me? Thou offerest me pleasure;
lo! I have got it. Thou offerest me gold; lo! I have got it; all things
are mine, the gift of God; I have a city that hands have not made, a
house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.' I will not barter
this for your poor gold." "I will give you honor," saith Satan. "I have
honor enough," says the peaceful heart; "God will honor me in the last
great day of his account." "I will give thee everything that thou canst
desire," saith Satan. "I have everything that I can desire," says the
Christian.
"I nothing want on earth;
Happy in my Saviour's love,
I am at peace with God."
Avaunt, then, Satan! While I am at peace with God, I am a match for all
thy temptations. Thou offerest me silver; I have gold. Thou bringest
before me the riches of the earth; I have something more substantial
than these. Avaunt, tempter of human kind! Avaunt, thou fiend! Your
temptations and blandishments are lost on one who has peace with God.
This peace, too, will keep the heart undivided. He who has peace with
God will set his whole heart on God. "Oh!" says he, "why should I go to
seek anything else on earth, now that I have found my rest in God? As
the bird by wandering, so should I be if I went elsewhere. I have found
a fountain; why should I go and drink at the broken cistern that will
hold no water? I lean on the arm of my beloved; why should I rest on
the arm of another? I know that religion is a thing worth my following;
why should I leave the pure snows of Lebanon to follow something else?
I know and feel that religion is rich when it brings forth to me a
hundredfold the fruits of peace; why should I go and sow elsewhere? I
will be like the maiden Ruth, I will stop in the fields of Boaz. Here
will I ever stay and never wander."
Again, this peace keeps the heart rich. My hearers will notice that I
am passing over the heads of the mornings discourse, and showing how
this peace fulfills the requisites that we thought necessary in the
morning. Peace with God keeps the heart rich. The man who doubts and is
distressed has got a poor heart; it is a heart that has nothing in it.
But when a man has peace with God, his heart is rich. If I am at peace
with God I am enabled to go where I can get riches. The throne is the
place where God gives riches. If I am at peace with him, then I can
have access with boldness. Meditation is a great and another field of
enrichment. When my heart is at peace with God, then I can enjoy
meditation; but if I have not peace with God, then I can not meditate
profitably; for "the birds come down on the sacrifice," and I can not
drive them away, except my soul is at peace with God. Hearing the word
is another way of getting rich. If my mind is disturbed I can not hear
the word with profit. If I have to bring my family into the chapel; if
I have to bring my business, my ships, or my horses, I can not hear.
When I have cows, and dogs, and horses in the pew, I can not hear the
Gospel preached. When I have got a whole week's business, and a ledger
on my heart, I can not hear then; but when I have peace, peace
concerning all things, and rest in my Fathers will, then I can hear
with pleasure, and every word of the gospel is profitable to me; for my
mouth is empty, and I can fill it with the heavenly treasures of his
Word. So you see the peace of God is a soul-enriching thing. And
because it keeps the heart rich, thus it is it keeps the heart and mind
through Jesus Christ our Lord. I need hardly say that the peace of God
fulfills the only other requisite which I did not mention, because it
was unnecessary to do so. It keeps the heart always peaceable. Of
course, peace makes it full of peace–peace like a river, and
righteousness like the waves of the sea.
Now, then, brother and sister, it is of the first importance that you
keep your heart aright. You can not keep your heart right but by one
way. That one way is by getting, maintaining, and enjoying peace of God
to your own conscience. I beseech you then, you that are professors of
religion, do not let this night pass over your heads till you have a
confident assurance that you are now the possessor of the peace of God.
For let me tell you, if you go out to the world next Monday morning
without first having peace with God in your own conscience, you will
not be able to keep your heart during the week. If this night, ere you
rest, you could say that with God as well as all the world you are at
peace, you may go out to-morrow, and whatever your business, I am not
afraid for you. You are more than a match for all the temptations to
false doctrine, to false living, or to false speech that may meet you.
For he that has peace with God is armed cap-a-pie; he is covered from
head to foot in a panoply. The arrow may fly against it, but it can not
pierce it, for peace with God is a mail so strong that the broad sword
of Satan itself may be broken in twain ere it can pierce the flesh. O!
take care that you are at peace with God; for if you are not, you ride
forth to to-morrow's fight unarmed, naked; and God help the man that is
unarmed when he has to fight with hell and earth. O, be not foolish,
but "put on the whole armor of God," and then be confident for you need
not fear.
As for the rest of you, you can not have peace with God, because "there
is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked." How shall I address you. As
I said this morning, I can not exhort you to keep your hearts. My best
advice to you is, to get rid of your hearts, and as soon as you can, to
get new ones. Your prayer should be, "Lord, take away my stony heart,
and give me a heart of flesh." But though I can not address you from
this text, I may address you from another. Though your heart is bad,
there is another heart that is good; and the goodness of that heart is
a ground of exhortation to you. You remember Christ said, "Come unto me
all ye that are weary and heavy laden;" and then his argument would
come to this, "for I am meek and lowly of heart, and ye shall find rest
to your souls." Your heart is proud, and high, and black, and lustful;
but look at Christ's heart, it is meek and lowly. There is your
encouragement. Do you feel to-night your sin? Christ is meek; if you
come to him he will not spurn you. Do you feel your insignificance and
worthlessness? Christ is lowly; he will not despise you. If Christ's
heart were like your heart, you would be damned to a certainty. But
Christ's heart is not as your heart, nor his ways like your ways. I can
see no hope for you when I look into your hearts, but I can see plenty
of hope when I look into Christ's heart.
O, think of his blessed heart; and if you go home to-night sad and
sorrowful, under a sense of sin, when you go to your chamber, shut to
your door–you need not be afraid–and talk to that heart so meek and
lowly; and though your words be ungrammatical, and your sentences
incoherent, he will hear and answer you from heaven, his dwelling
place; and when he hears, he will forgive and accept, for his own
name's sake.
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