Our Stronghold

Our Stronghold
A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 26, 1862, BY THE REV. C.
H. SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.
"The name of the Lord is a strong tower: the righteous run into it, and
are safe."
Proverbs 18:10.
STRONG towers were a greater security in a bygone age than they are
now. Then when troops of marauders invaded the land, strong castles
were set upon the various hilltops, and the inhabitants gathered up
their little wealth and fled there at once. Castles were looked upon as
being very difficult places to attack. And ancient troops would rather
fight a hundred battles than endure a single siege. Towns which would
be taken by modern artillery in twelve hours held out for twelve years
against the most potent forces of the ancient times.
He that possessed a castle was lord of all the region round about, and
made their inhabitants either his clients who sought his protection, or
his dependents whom he ruled at will. He who owned a strong tower felt,
however potent might be his adversary, his walls and bulwarks would be
his sure salvation. Generous rulers provided strongholds for their
people–mountain fastnesses where the peasantry might be sheltered from
marauders.
Transfer your thoughts to a thousand years ago, and picture a people,
who after plowing and sowing, have gathered in their harvest. But when
they are about to make merry with the harvest festival, a startling
signal banishes their joy. A trumpet is blown from yonder mountain, the
bell answers it from the village tower. Hordes of ferocious robbers are
approaching, their corn will be devoured by strangers! Burying their
corn and furniture, and gathering up the little portable wealth they
have, they hasten with all their might to their tower of defense which
stands on yonder ridge.
The gates are shut. The drawbridge is pulled up. The iron grating is
let down. The warders are on the battlements, and the inhabitants
within feel that they are safe. The enemy will rifle their deserted
farms, and search for hidden treasure, and finding that the inhabitants
are quite beyond their reach, they will betake themselves to some other
place. Such is the figure which is in the text. "The name of the Lord
is a strong tower: the righteous run into it and are safe."
I. Of course we all know that by the name of God is meant the Character
of the Most High, so that our first lesson is that THE CHARACTER OF GOD
FURNISHES THE RIGHTEOUS WITH ABUNDANT SECURITY.
The Character of God is the refuge of the Christian, in opposition to
other refuges which godless men have chosen. Solomon suggestively puts
the following words in the next verse–"The rich man's wealth is his
strong city, and as an high wall in his own conceit." The rich man
feels that his wealth may afford him comfort. Should he be attacked in
law, his wealth can procure him an advocate. Should he be insulted in
the streets, the dignity of a full purse will avenge him. Should he be
sick, he can hire the best physicians. Should he need ministers to his
pleasures, or helpers of his infirmities, they will be at his call.
Should famine stalk through the land, it will avoid his door. Should
war itself break forth, he can purchase an escape from the sword, for
his wealth is his strong tower in contradistinction to this, the
righteous man finds in his God all that the wealthy man finds in his
substance and a vast deal more. "The Lord is my portion, says my soul,
therefore will I trust in Him." God is our treasure. He is to us better
than the heaviest purse, or the most magnificent income. Broad acres
yield not such peace as a well attested interest in the love and
faithfulness of our heavenly Father. Provinces under our sway could not
bring to us greater revenues than we possess in Him who makes us heirs
of all things by Christ Jesus.
Other men who trust not in their wealth, nevertheless make their own
names a strong tower. To say the truth, a man's good name is no mean
defense against the attacks of his fellow men. To wrap one's self about
in the garment of integrity is to defy the chill blast of calumny and
to be mailed against the arrows of slander. If we can appeal to God and
say, "Lord, You know that in this thing I am not wicked"–then let the
mouth of the liar pour forth his slanders, let him scatter his venom
where he may–we bear an antidote within before which his poison yields
its power.
But this is only true in a very limited sense. Death soon proves to men
that their own good name can afford them no consolation, and under
conviction of sin a good repute is no shelter. When conscience is
awake, when the judgment is unbiased, when we come to know something of
the law of God and of the justice of His Character, we soon discover
that self-righteousness is no hiding place for us. It is nothing but a
crumbling battlement which will fall on the neck of him that hides
behind it–a pasteboard fortification yielding to the first shock of
the law–a refuge of lies to be beaten down with the great hailstones
of eternal vengeance–such is the righteousness of man.
The righteous trusts not in this–not his own name–but the name of his
God. Not his own character, but the Character of the Most High is his
strong tower. Numberless are those castles in the air to which men
hasten in the hour of peril–ceremonies lift their towers into the
clouds–professions pile their walls high as mountains, and works of
the flesh paint their delusions till they seem substantial bulwarks.
But all, all, shall melt like snow, and vanish like a mist. Happy is he
who leaves the sand for the Rock, the phantom for the Substance.
The name of the Lord is a strong tower to the Christian, not only in
opposition to other men's refuges but as a matter of fact and reality.
Even when he is not able to perceive it by experience, yet God's
Character is the refuge of the saint. If we come to the bottom of
things, we shall find that the basis of the security of the Believer
lies in the Character of God. I know you will tell me it is the
Covenant–but what is the Covenant worth, if God were changeable,
unjust, untrue? I know you will tell me that the confidence of the
Believer is in the blood of Christ–but what were the blood of Christ
if God were false?
If after Christ had paid the ransom the Lord should deny Him the
ransomed. If after Christ had been the Substitute, the Judge of men
should yet visit upon our heads, for whom He suffered, our own guilt.
If Jehovah could be unrighteous, if He could violate His promise and
become faithless as we are–then, I say, that even the blood of Christ
would afford us no security. You tell me that there is His promise, but
again I remind you that the value of a man's promise must depend on his
character.
If God were not such that He cannot lie, if He were not so faithful
that He cannot change His mind, if he were not so mighty that He cannot
be frustrated when He intends to perform–then His promises were but
waste paper! His Words like our words, would be but wind, and afford no
satisfactory shelter for a soul distressed and anxious. But you will
tell me He has sworn with an oath. Brethren, I know He has. He has
given us two immutable things in which it is impossible for Him to lie,
that we may have strong consolation.
But still what is a man's oath worth irrespective of his character? Is
it not, after all, what a man is that makes his assertions to be
eminently mistrusted or profoundly believed? And it is because our God
cannot by any means foreswear Himself but must be true, that His oath
becomes of value to you and to me. Brethren, after all, let us remember
that the purpose of God in our salvation is the glorifying of His own
Character, and this it is that makes our salvation positively sure. If
everyone that trusts in Christ is not saved, then is God dishonored,
the Lord of Hosts has hung up His escutcheon.
And if in the face of the whole earth He accomplishes not that which He
declares He will perform in this Book, then is His reputation stained.
I say it, He has flung down the gauntlet to sin, death, and Hell–and
if He is not the conqueror over all these in the heart of every soul
that trusts in Him, then He is no more the God of Victories, nor can we
shout His everlasting praise as the Lord mighty in battle. His
Character, then, you see, when we come to the basis of all, is the
granite formation upon which must rest all the pillars of the Covenant
of Grace, and the sure mercies thereof.
His wisdom, truth, mercy, justice, power, eternity and immutability are
the seven pillars of the house of sure salvation. If we would have
comfort, we can surely find it in the Character of God. This is our
strong tower, we run into it and we are safe.
Mark, Beloved, not only is this true as a matter of fact, but it is
true as a matter of experience. I hope I shall now speak the feelings
of your hearts, while I say we have found the Character of God to be an
abundant safeguard to us. We have known full well the trials of life!
Thank God we have, for what would any of us be worth if we had no
troubles? Troubles, like files, take away our rust–like furnaces, they
consume our dross–like winnowing fans they drive away the chaff. And
we should have had but little value, we should have had but little
usefulness–if we had not been made to pass through the furnace.
But in all our troubles we have found the Character of God a comfort.
You have been poor–very poor–I know some of you here have been out of
work a long time. You have wondered where your bread would come from,
even for the next meal. Now what has been your comfort? Have you not
said, "God is too good to let me starve. He is too bountiful to let me
want." And so, you see, you have found His Character to be your strong
tower. Or else you have had personal sickness–you have long lain on
the bed of weariness, tossing to and fro, and then the temptation has
come into your heart to be impatient–"God has dealt harshly with you,"
so the Evil One whispers. But how do you escape?
Why you say, "No, He is no tyrant, I know Him to be a sympathizing
God." "In all their afflictions He was afflicted, the angel of His
Presence saved them." Or else you have had losses–many losses, and you
have been apt to ask, "How can these things be? How is it I have to
work so long, and plod so hard, and have to look about me with all my
wits to earn but little, and yet when I have made money it melts? I see
my wealth, like a flock of birds upon the fields–here one moment, and
gone the next–for a passerby claps his hands, and everything takes to
itself wings and flies away."
Then we are apt to think that God is unwise to let us toil for nothing,
but lo, we run into our strong tower and we feel it cannot be. No. The
God who sent this affliction could not have acted in a thoughtless,
reckless, unwise manner. There must be something here that shall work
for my good. You know, Brothers and Sisters, it is useless for me to
attempt to describe the various ways in which your trials come. I am
sure they that know Jehovah's name will put their trust in Him.
Perhaps your trial has been want, and then you have said, "His name is
Jehovah-Jireh, the Lord will provide." Or else you have been banished
from friends, perhaps from country, but you have said, "Ah, His name is
Jehovah-Shammah, the Lord is there." Or else you have had a disturbance
in your family. There has been war within, and war without, but you
have run into your strong tower, for you have said, "His name is
Jehovah-Shalom, the Lord sends peace." Or else the world has slandered
you, and you, yourself have been conscious of sin, but you have said,
"His name is Jehovah-Tsidkenu, the Lord our righteousness."
And so you have gone there and been safe. Or else many have been your
enemies, then His name has been "Jehovah-Xissi, the Lord my banner."
And so He has been a strong tower to you. Defy, then, Brothers and
Sisters–defy, in God's strength, tribulations of every sort and size.
Say, with the poet–
"There is a safe and secret place
Beneath the wings Divine,
Reserved for al the heirs of Grace,
That refuge no w is mine.
The least and feeblest here may hide
Uninjured and unawed;
While thousands fall on every side, I rest secure in God." But,
Beloved, besides the trials of this life, we have the sins of the
flesh, and what a tribulation these are! But the name of our God is our
strong tower then. At certain seasons we are more than ordinarily
conscious of our guilt. And I would give little for your piety, if you
do not sometimes creep into a corner with the poor publican and say,
"God be merciful to me a sinner." Broken hearts and humble walkers,
these are dear in Jesus' eyes. There will be times with all of us when
our saintship is not very clear, but our sinnership is very apparent.
Well, then, the name of our God must be our defense–"He is very
merciful." "For I will be merciful to their unrighteousness and their
sins and their iniquities will I remember no more."
Yes, in the Person of Christ we even dare to look at His justice with
confidence, since, "He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and
to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." Possibly it is not so much the
guilt of sin that troubles you, as the power of sin. You feel as if you
must one day fall by the hand of this enemy within. You have been
striving and struggling, but the old Adam is too much for you.
It is a stern conflict and you fear that the sons of Anak will never be
driven out. You feel you carry a bombshell within your heart. Your
passions are like a powder magazine–you are walking where the flakes
of fire are flying, and you are afraid a spark may fall, and then there
will be a terrible destruction of everything. Ah, then there is the
power of God, there is the Truth of God, there is the faithfulness of
God, and, despite all the desperate power of sin, we find a shelter
here in the Character of the Most High.
Sin sometimes comes with all the terrors of the law. Then if you know
not how to hide yourself behind your God, you will be in an evil
plight. It will come at times with all the fire of the flesh, and if
you cannot perceive that your flesh was crucified in Christ, and that
your life is a life in Him, and not in yourself, then you will soon be
put to the rout. But he who lives in his God and not in himself. He who
wraps Christ's righteousness about him, and is righteous in Christ–
such a man may defy all the attacks of the flesh, and all the
temptations of the world. He shall overcome through the blood of the
Lamb. "This is the victory that overcomes the world, even our faith."
Then, Beloved, there are the temptations of the devil, and these are
very dreadful. But how sweet it is, still, to feel that the Character
of God is our strong tower. Without walls of Divine Grace and bulwarks
of mercy, how can a tempted soul escape the clutches of the Destroyer?
But where the soul lies in the entrenchments of Divine promise, all the
devils in Hell cannot carry it by storm. I saw this week, one whom many
of you greatly respect, the former pastor of this Church, Mr. James
Smith, of Cheltenham–[since departed, to be with Christ, which is far
better]–a name well-known by his innumerable little works which are
scattered everywhere and cannot fail to do good.
You will remember that about a year ago he was struck with paralysis
and one half of his body was dead. But yet, when I saw him on the bed,
I had not seen a more cheerful man in the full heyday of strength. I
had been told that he was the subject of very fearful conflicts at
times. So after I had shook hands with him, I said, "Friend Smith, I
hear you have many doubts and fears!" "Who told you that?" said he,
"for I have none." "Never have any? Why I understood you had many
conflicts." "Yes," he said, "I have many conflicts, but I have no
doubts. I have many wars within, but I have no fears.
"Who could have told you that? I hope I have not led anyone to think
that. It is a hard battle, but I know the victory is sure. After I have
had an ill night's rest–of course, through physical debility–my mind
is troubled, and then that old coward, Satan, who would be afraid to
meddle with me, perhaps, if I were strong, attacks me when I am weak.
But I am not afraid of him–don't you go away with that opinion. He
does throw many fiery darts at me, but I have no doubt as to my final
victory."
Then he said, in his own way, "I am just like a packet that is all
ready to go by train, packed, corded, labeled, paid for, and on the
platform, waiting for the express to come by and take me to Glory. I
wish I could hear the whistle now," said he. "I had hoped I should have
been carried to Heaven long ago, but still I am fine." "And then," he
said, "I have been telling your George Moore, over there, that I am not
only on the Rock, but that I am cemented to the Rock, and that the
cement is as hard as the Rock, so there is no fear of my perishing.
Unless the Rock falls, I cannot. Unless the Gospel perishes, I cannot
perish."
Now, here was a man attacked by Satan–he did not tell me of the bitter
conflicts he had within, I know they were severe enough. He was anxious
to bear a good testimony to the faithfulness of his gracious Lord–but
you see, it was his God that was his stronghold. He ran to this–the
immutability, the faithfulness, the truthfulness, the mightiness of
that God upon whose arm he leaned. If you and I will do the same, we
can always find an attribute of God to oppose to each suggestion of the
Evil One. "God will leave you," says the Evil One. "You old liar, He
cannot, for He is a faithful God." "But you will perish after all." "O
you vile deceiver! That can never be, for He is a mighty God and strong
to deliver."
"But one of these times He will abhor you." "No, you false accuser, and
father of lies, that cannot be, for He is a God of love." "The time
shall happen when He shall forget you." "No, traitor! That cannot be,
for He is a God Omniscient, and knows and sees all things." I say, thus
we may rebut every mischievous slander of Satan, running still into the
Character of God as our strong tower.
Brethren, even when the Lord Himself chastens us, it is most blessed to
appeal against God to God. Do you understand what I mean? He smites us
with His rod, but then to look up and say, "Father, if I could believe
what Your rod seems to say, I should say You love me not. But I know
You are a God of love, and my faith tells me that You love me none the
less because of that hard blow." See here, Brothers and Sisters, I will
put myself in the case a moment–Lo, He spurns me as though He hated
me. He drives me from His Presence, gives me no caresses, denies me
sweet promises.
He shuts me up in prison, and gives me the water of affliction, and the
bread of distress. But my faith declares, "He is such a God that I
cannot think harshly of Him. He has been so good to me that I know He
is good now, and in the teeth of all His Providences, even when He puts
a black mask over His face, I still believe that–
"Behind a frowning Providence,
He hides a smiling face."
But, Friends, I hope you know, I hope each of us may know by
experience, the blessed are running into the bosom of God and hiding
there.
This word to the sinner who has not yet found peace. Do not you see,
Sinner, the Christian is not saved by what he is, but by what his God
is? And this is the groundwork of our comfort–that God is perfect–not
that we are perfect. When I preached last Thursday night about the
snuffers of the temple, and the golden snuffer trays, and the necessity
there was for the lamps in the sanctuary to be trimmed, one foolish
woman said, "Ah, you see, according to the minister's own confession,
these Christians are as bad as the rest of us, they have many faults.
Oh," she said, "I dare say I shall be as well off at the last as they
will."
Poor soul! She did not see that the Christian's hope does not lie in
what he is, but in what Christ is. Our trust is not in what we suffer,
but in what Jesus suffered. Not in what we do, but in what He has done.
It is not our name–I say again–that is a strong tower to us. It is
not even our prayers, it is not our good works. It is the name, the
promise, the truth, the work, the finished righteousness of our God in
Christ Jesus. Here the Believer finds his defense and nowhere besides.
Run Sinner, run, for the castle gate is free to all who seek a shelter,
be they who they may.
II. By your leave I shall turn to the second point. How THE RIGHTEOUS
AVAIL THEMSELVES OF THIS
STRONG TOWER. They run into it. Now, running seems to me to imply that
they do not stop to make any preparation. You will remember our Lord
Jesus Christ said to His disciples that when the Romans surrounded
Jerusalem, he that was on the housetop was not to come down into his
house, but to run down the outer staircase, and escape. So the
Christian, when he is attacked by his enemies, should not stop for
anything, but just run into his God and be safe.
There is no need for you to tarry until you have prepared your mind,
until you have performed sundry ablutions, but run, Man, straight away,
at once. When the pigeons are attacked by the hawk, their better plan
is not to parley, nor to stay, but swiftly as they can, cut the air and
fly to the dovecote. So should it be with you. Leave fools, who will,
to parley with the fiend of Hell–but as for you, fly to your God and
enter into His secret places till the tempest is over, past. A gracious
hint, this, to you anxious souls who are seeking to fit yourselves for
Jesus–away with such legal rubbish, run at once!
You are safe in following the good example of the righteous. This
running appears to me to imply that they have nothing to carry. A man
who has a load, the heavier the load may be, the more will he be
impeded in his flight. But the righteous run, like racers in the games,
who have thrown off everything. Their sins they leave to mercy, and
their righteousness to the moles and bats. If I had any righteousness I
would not carry it, but run to the righteousness of Christ without
it–for my own righteousness must be a drag upon me which I could not
bear.
Sinners, I know, when they come to Christ, want to bring tons of good
works, wagon loads of good feelings, and fitness, and repenting and
such like–but the righteous do no such thing. They just foreswear
everything they have of their own, and count it but dross and dung,
that they may run to Christ, and be found in him. Gospel righteousness
lies all in Jesus, not in the Believer.
It seems to me, too, that this expression not only implies a want of
preparation, and having nothing to carry, but it implies that fear
quickens them. Men do not run to a castle unless they are afraid. But
when the avenger of death is close behind, then swiftly they fly. It is
marvelous how godly fear helps faith. There is a man sinking there in
the river. He cannot swim, he must be drowned! Look! He is going down!
We push him a plank–with what a clutch he grasps it! And the more he
is convicted that he has no power to float, the more firmly does he
grip at this one hope. Fear may even drive a man, I say, to faith, and
lend him wings to fly, where otherwise he might have crept with laggard
feet. The fight is the flight of fear, but the refuge is the refuge of
faith. O, Sinner, if the righteous fly, what ought your pace to be?
Again, it seems to me that there is great eagerness here, as if the
Christian did not feel safe till he had entered into his God. As the
stag pursued by the hounds quickens its flight by reason of the baying
of the dogs, as the clamor grows louder and louder, see how the stag
leaps from crag to crag! He dashes through the stream, flies over
yonder hill, is lost in yonder brake and soon springs through the
valley! So the Christian flies to his dear God for safety, when the
hounds of Hell and the dogs of temptation are let loose against him.
Eagerness! Where indeed shall the like be found?
"As the hart pants after the water brooks, so pants my soul after you,
O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God: when shall I come
and appear before God?" O convicted Sinner, what should your eagerness
be if thus the righteous pant for God? Brethren, I may add here, that
there is an absence of all hesitation. He runs. You know, if we want
somebody to help us, we put our hand to our brow and consider, "Let us
see, where shall we go? I am in great straits, to whom shall I fly? Who
will be the best friend to me?" The righteous never ask that question,
at least when they are in a right mind they never do.
The moment their trouble comes they run at once to their God, for they
feel that they have full permission to repair to Him. And again they
feel they have nowhere else to fly. "To whom, or where should I go, if
I could turn from You," is a question which is its own answer. Then
understand, in our text there is eagerness, the absence of all
hesitation. There is fear, and yet there is courage. There is no
preparation, there is the flinging aside of every burden. "The
righteous run into His high tower and are safe."
Beloved, I will leave that point, when I have said please remember that
when a man gets into a castle, he is safe because of the impregnability
of the castle. He is not safe because of the way in which he entered
into the castle. You hear some man inside saying, "I shall never be
hurt, because I came into the castle the right way." You will tell him,
"No, no, no, it is not the way you came into the castle, but the castle
itself is our defense." So some of you may be thinking, "I do come to
Christ, but I am afraid that I do not come aright." But it is not your
coming, it is Christ that saves you!
If you are in Christ, I do not care a pin how you got in, for I am sure
you could not get in except by the door! If you are once in, He will
never throw you out. He will never drive away a soul that comes unto
Him, for any reason whatever. Your safety does not lie in how you came,
for in very truth, your safety is in Him. If a man should run into a
castle and carry all the jewels of a kingdom with him, he would not be
safer because of the jewels. And if another man should run in with
hardly a fresh suit of clothes with him, he would not be any the more
in danger because of his raggedness.
It is the castle, it is the castle, not the man. The solid walls, the
strong bastions, the frowning ramparts, the mighty munitions–these
make up the defense–not the man! Nor the man's wealth, nor the way the
man came. Beloved, it is most true that salvation is of the Lord, and
whoever shall look out of self tonight, whoever shall look to Christ
only, shall find Him to be a strong tower. You may run into your Lord
and be safe.
III. And now for our third and closing remark. You that have Bibles
with margins, just look at them. You will find that the second part of
the text is put in the margin thus–"The righteous run into it and are
set aloft." Our first rendering is, "The righteous run into it and are
safe"–there is the matter offact. The other rendering is, "He is set
aloft"– there is the matter of joyous experience.
1. Now, first, let us see to the matter of fact. The man that is
sheltered in his God–a man that dwells in the secret places of the
tabernacle of the Host on High, who is hidden in His pavilion, and is
set upon a rock, he is safe, for, first, who can hurt him? The Devil?
Christ has broken his head. Life? Christ has taken his life up to
Heaven, for we are dead, and, "our life is hid with Christ in God."
Death? No. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. "O death,
where is your sting? O grave, where is your victory?"
The law? That is satisfied and it is dead to the Believer, and he is
not under its curse. Sin? No–that cannot hurt the Believer, for Christ
has slain it. Christ took the Believer's sins upon Himself, and
therefore they are not on the Believer any more. Christ took the
Believer's sins and threw them into the Red Sea of His atoning blood.
The depths have covered them, not one of them is left. All the sin the
Believer has ever committed is now blotted out, and a debt that is
cancelled can never put a man in prison. A debt that is paid, let it be
ever so heavy, can never make a man an insolvent–it is discharged, it
has ceased to be.
"Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect? It is God that
justifies. Who is he that condemns? It is Christ that died, yes,
rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who
also makes intercession for us." Who can harm us? Let him have
permission to do what he will, what is there that he can do? Who,
again, has the power to reach us? We are in the hands of Christ. What
arrow shall penetrate His hands to reach our souls? We are under the
skirts of Deity. What strength shall tear away the mantle of God to
reach His children? Our names are written on the hands of Jesus–who
can erase those everlasting lines?
We are jewels in Immanuel's crown. What thievish fingers shall steal
away those jewels? We are in Christ. Who shall be able to rend us from
His innermost heart? We are members of His body. Who shall mutilate the
Savior? "I bore you," says God, "as on eagles' wings." Who shall smite
through the breast of the Eternal One, Heaven's great eagle? He must
first do it before he can reach the eaglets, the young sons of God,
begotten unto a lively hope. Who can reach us? God interposes–Christ
stands in the way. And the Holy Spirit guards us as a garrison.
Who shall stand against the Omnipotent? Tens of thousands of created
powers must fall before him, for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting
strength. What weapon is there that can be used against us? Shall they
kill us? Then we begin to live. Shall they banish us? Then we are but
nearer to our Home. Shall they strip us? How can they rend away the
garment of imputed righteousness? Shall they seize our property? How
can they touch our treasure since it is all in Heaven? Shall they
scourge us? Sweet shall be the smart when Christ is present with us!
Shall they cast us into a dungeon? Where shall the free spirit find a
prison? What fetters can bind the man who is free in Christ?
Shall the tongue attack us? Every tongue that rises against us in
judgment, we shall condemn. I know not what new weapon can be formed,
for certain it is that the anvil of the Church has broken all the
hammers that were ever used to smite it, and remains uninjured, still.
The Believer is–he must be safe. I said this morning that if the
Believer in Christ is not saved forever, then, Beloved, there is no
meaning whatever in God's Word. And I say it once again, and I say it
without any word of apology for so doing–I could never receive that
Book as the Book of God at all, if it could be proved to me that it did
not teach the doctrine of the safety of those that trust in Christ.
I could never believe that God would speak in such a manner as to make
tens of thousands of us, yes, millions of us, believe that He would
keep us, and yet after all, He should cast us away. Nor do I believe
that He would use words which, to say the very least, seem to teach
final perseverance if He had not intended to teach us the doctrine. All
the Arminian Divines that ever lived cannot prove the total apostasy of
Believers. They can attack some other points of the Calvinistic
doctrine. There are some points of our form of doctrine which
apparently are far more vulnerable.
God forbid we should be so foolish as to deny that there are
difficulties about every system of theology! But about the perseverance
of the saint there is no difficulty. It is as easy to overthrow an
opponent, here, as it would be to thrust through, with a spear, a
shield of pasteboard. Be confident, Believer, that this is God's Truth,
that they who trust in God shall be as Mount Zion which shall never be
removed, but abide forever.
2. But now we conclude by noticing that our text not only teaches us
our safety, but our experience of it. "He shall set him up aloft." The
Believer in his high days, and they ought to be every day, is like an
eagle perched aloft on a towering crag. Yonder is a hunter, down below,
who would desire to strike the royal bird. He has his rifle with
him–but his rifle would not reach one third of the way–so the royal
bird looks down upon him. He sees him load and prime, and aim. He looks
in quiet contempt on him, not intending even to take the trouble to
stretch one of his wings.
He sees him load again, hears the bullet down below, but he is quite
safe, for he is up aloft. Such is the faithful Christian's state before
God. He can look down upon every trial and temptation, upon every
adversary and every malicious attack–for God is his strong tower, and,
"he is set up aloft." When some people go to the newspaper and write a
very sharp, bitter, and cutting letter against the minister, "Oh," they
think, "How he will feel that! How that will cut him to the quick!"
And yet, if they had seen the man read it through, double it up, and
throw it into the fire, saying, "What a mercy it is to have somebody
taking notice of me." If they could see the man go to bed and sleep all
the better because he thinks he has had a high honor conferred on him
for being allowed to be abused for Christ, surely they would see that
their efforts are only, "hate's labor lost." I do not think our enemies
would take so much trouble to make us happy, if they knew how blessed
we are under their malice.
"You have prepared a table before me in the presence of my enemies,"
said David. Some soldiers never eat so well as when their enemies are
looking on–for there is a sort of gusto about every mouthful which
they eat, as they seem to say–"snatched from the jaw of the lion, and
from the paw of the bear, and in defiance of you all, in the name of
the Most High God I feast to the full, and then set up my banner." The
Lord sets His people up aloft.
But there are many who do not appear to be much up aloft. You meet them
in the corn market and they say, "Wheat does not pay as they used to.
Farming is no good to anybody." Hear others, after those gales, those
violent gales, when so many ships have gone down, say, "Ah, you may
well pity us poor fellows that have to do with shipping, dreadful times
these, we are all sure to be ruined." See many of our tradesmen–"This
Exhibition has given us a little spurt, but as soon as this is over,
there will be nothing doing. Trade never was so dull." Trade has been
dull ever since I have been in London, and that is nine years!
I do not know how it is, but our friends are always losing money, yet
they get on pretty comfortably, too. Some I know, began with nothing.
And they are getting pretty rich now, but, it is all by losing money,
if I am to believe what they tell me! Surely this is not sitting up
aloft. Surely this is not living up on high. This is a low kind of life
for a child of God. We should not have liked to see the Prince of Wales
in his boyhood playing with the children in the street, and I do not
suppose you would like to see him now among coal heavers at a wrestling
match.
Nor should the child of God be seen pushing and grasping as if this
world were all, always using that muckrake to scrape together the
things of this world. Instead he should be in full satisfaction, being
content with such things as he has, for God has said, "I will never
leave you nor forsake you." I am not a little ashamed of myself that I
do not live more on high, for I know when we get depressed in spirits,
and downcast, and doubting, we say many unbelieving and God-dishonoring
words. It is all wrong. We ought not to stay here in these marshes of
fleshly doubts. We ought never to doubt our God. Let the heathen doubt
his god, for well he may, but our God made the heavens.
What a happy people we ought to be! When we are not, we are not true to
our principles. There are ten thousand arguments in Scripture for
happiness in the Christian. But I do not know that there is one logical
argument for misery. Those people who draw their faces down, and like
the hypocrites, pretend to be of a sad countenance, these, I say, cry,
"Lord, what a wretched land is this, that yields us no supplies." I
should think they do not belong to the children of Israel! The children
of Israel find in the wilderness a Rock following them with its streams
of water, and manna dropping every day. And when they want them, there
are the quails, and so the wretched land is filled with good supplies.
Let us rather rejoice in our God. I should not like to have a serving
man who always went about with a dreary countenance, because do you
know people would say, "What a bad master that man has." And when we
see Christians looking so sad, we are apt to think they cannot have a
good God to trust to. Come, Beloved, let us change our notes, for we
have a strong tower, and are safe.
Let us take a walk upon the ramparts. I do not see any reason for
always being down in the dungeon. Let us go up to the very top of the
ramparts, where the banner waves in the fresh air, and let us sound the
clarion of defiance to our foes! And let it ring across the plain,
where yonder pale white-horsed rider comes, bearing the lance of death.
Let us defy even him. Ring out the note again! Salute the evening, and
make the outgoings of the morning to rejoice.
Wander upon the castle top, shout to your companion, yonder, and let
every tower and every turret of the grand old battlements be vocal with
the praise of Him who has said–
"Munitions of stupendous rock,
Your dwelling place shall be.
There shall your soul without a shock
The wreck of nature see."
Sinner, again I say the door is open! Run to the mercy of God in
Christ, and by His Grace, be safe!