Rahab's Faith
A Sermon
(No. 119)
Delivered on Sabbath Morning, March 1, 1857, by the
REV. C.H. SPURGEON
At The Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens
"By faith the harlot Rahab perished not with them that believed not,
when she had received the spies with peace."–Hebrews 11:31.
IN ALMOST every capital of Europe there are varieties of triumphal
arches or columns, upon which are recorded the valiant deeds of the
country's generals, its emperors, or its monarchs. You will find, in
one case, the thousand battles of a Napoleon recorded, and in another,
you find the victories of a Nelson pictured. It seems, therefore, but
right, that faith, which is the mightiest of the mighty, should have a
pillar raised to its honor, upon which its valiant deeds should be
recorded. The apostle Paul undertook to raise the structure, and he
erected a most magnificent pillar in the chapter before us. It recites
the victories of faith. It begins with one triumph of faith, and then
proceeds to others. We have, in one place, faith triumphing over death;
Enoch entered not the gates of hades, but reached heaven by another
road from that which is usual to men. We have faith, in another place,
wresting with time; Noah, warned of God concerning things not seen as
yet, wrestled with time, which placed his deluge a hundred and twenty
years away; and yet, in the confidence of faith, he believed against
all rational expectation, against all probability, and his faith was
more than a match for probability and time too. We have faith
triumphing over infirmity–Abraham begetteth a son in his old age. And
then we have faith triumphing over natural affection, as we see Abraham
climbing to the top of the hill and raising the knife to slay his only
and beloved son at the command of God. We see faith, again, entering
the lists with the infirmities of old age and the pains of the last
struggle, as we read, "By faith Jacob, when he was dying, blessed both
the sons of Joseph, and worshiped, leaning on the top of his staff."
Then we have faith combating the allurements of a wealthy court. "By
faith Moses esteemed the reproach of Christ greater riches than the
treasures in Egypt." We see faith dauntless in courage when Moses
forsook Egypt, not fearing the wrath of the king, and equally patient
in suffering when he endured as seeing him who is invisible. We have
faith dividing seas, and casting down strong walls. And then, as though
the greatest victory should be recorded last, we have faith entering
the lists with sin, holding a tournament with iniquity, and coming off
more than a conqueror. "Rahab perished not with them that believed not,
when she had received the spies with peace." That this woman was no
mere hostess, but a real harlot, I have abundantly proved to every
candid hearer while reading the chapter. I am persuaded that nothing
but a spirit of distaste for free grace would ever have led any
commentator to deny her sin.
I do think this triumph of faith over sin is not the least here
recorded, but that if there be any superiority ascribable to any one of
faith's exploits, this is, in some sense, the greatest of all. What!
faith, didst thou fight with hideous lust? What! wouldst thou struggle
with the fiery passion which sendeth forth flame from human breasts?
What! wouldst thou touch with thy hallowed fingers foul and bestial
debauchery? "Yea," says faith, "I did encounter this abomination of
iniquity; I delivered this woman from the loathsome chambers of vice,
the wily snares of enchantment, and the fearful penalty of
transgression; yea, I brought her off saved and rescued, gave her
purity of heart, and renewed in her the beauty of holiness; and now her
name shall be recorded in the roll of my triumphs as a woman full of
sin, yet saved by faith."
I shall have some things to say this morning concerning this notable
victory of faith over sin, such as I think will lead you to see that
this was indeed a supereminent triumph of faith. I will make my
divisions alliterative, that you may recollect them. This woman's faith
was saving faith, singular faith, stable faith, self-denying faith,
sympathising faith, and sanctifying faith. Let no one run away, when I
shall have expounded the first point, and miss the rest, for you can
not apprehend the whole power of her faith unless you remember each of
those particulars I am about to mention.
I. In the first place, this woman's faith was SAVING FAITH. All the
other persons mentioned here were doubtless saved by faith; but I do
not find it specially remarked concerning any of them that they
perished not through their faith; while it is particularly said of this
woman, that she was delivered amid the general destruction of Jericho
purely and only through her faith. And, without doubt, her salvation
was not merely of a temporal nature, not merely a deliverance of her
body from the sword, but redemption of her soul from hell. O! what a
mighty thing faith is, when it saves the soul from going down to the
pit! So mighty is the ever-rushing torrent of sin, that no arm but that
which is as strong as Deity can ever stop the sinner from being hurried
down to the gulf of black despair, and, when nearing that gulf, so
impetuous is the torrent of divine wrath, that nothing can snatch the
soul from perdition but an atonement which is as divine as God himself.
Yet faith is the instrument of accomplishing the whole work. It
delivers the sinner from the stream of sin, and so, laying hold upon
the omnipotence of the Spirit, it rescues him from that great whirlpool
of destruction into which his soul was being hurried. What a great
thing it is to save a soul! You can never know how great it is unless
you have stood in the capacity of a saviour to other men. You heroic
man who, yesterday, when the house was burning, climbed the creaking
stair-case, and, almost suffocated by the smoke, entered an upper
chamber, snatched a babe from its bed and a woman from the window, bore
them both down in his arms, and saved them at the peril of his own
life, he can tell you what a great thing it is to save a
fellow-creature. Yon noble-hearted youth who, yesterday, sprang into
the river, at the hazard of himself, and snatched a drowning man from
death, he felt, when he stood upon the shore, what a great thing it was
to save life. Ah! but you can not tell what a great thing it is to save
a soul. It is only our Lord Jesus Christ who can tell you that, for he
is the only one who has ever been the Saviour of sinners. And remember,
you can only know how great a thing faith is by knowing the infinite
value of the salvation of a soul. "Now, by faith, the harlot Rahab was
delivered." That she was really saved in a gospel sense as well as
temporally, seems to me to be proved from her reception of the spies
which was an emblem of the entrance of the word into her heart, and her
hanging out of the scarlet thread was an evidence of faith, not unaptly
picturing faith in the blood of Jesus the Redeemer. But who can measure
the length and breadth of that word–salvation. Ah! it was a mighty
deed which faith accomplished when he bore her off in safety. Poor
sinner! take comfort. The same faith which saved Rahab can save thee.
Art thou literally one of Rahab's sisters in guilt? She was saved, and
so mayest thou be, if God shall grant thee repentance. Woman! art thou
loathsome to thyself? Dost thou stand at this moment in this assembly,
and say, "I am ashamed to be here; I know I have no right to stand
among people who are chaste and honest?" I bid thee still remain; yea,
come again and make this thy Sabbath house of prayer. Thou art no
intruder! Thou art welcome! For thou hast a sacred right to the courts
of mercy. Thou hast a sacred right; for here sinners are invited, and
thou art such. Believe in Christ, and thou, like Rahab, shalt not
perish with the disobedient, but even thou shalt be saved.
And now there is some gentleman in the audience who says, "There's a
gospel for you; it is a kind of sanctuary for wicked men, unto which
the worst of people may run and be saved." Yes, that is the stale
objection which Celsus used against Oigen in his discussion. "But,"
said Origen, "it is true, Celsus, that Christ's gospel is a sanctuary
for thieves, robbers, murderers, and harlots. But know this, it is not
a sanctuary merely, it is an hospital too; for it heals their sins,
delivers them from their diseases, and they are not afterwards what
they were before they received the gospel." I ask no man to-day to come
to Christ, and then continue his sins. If so, I should ask him to do an
absurdity. As well might I talk of delivering a Prometheus, while his
chains are allowed to remain upon him and bind him to his rock. It can
not be. Christ taketh away the vulture from the conscience, but he
taketh away the chains too, and maketh the man wholly free when he
doeth it all. Yet, we repeat it again, the chief of sinners are as
welcome to Christ as the best of saints. The fountain filled with blood
was opened for black ones; the robe of Christ was woven for naked ones;
the balm of Calvary was compounded for sick ones; life came into the
world to raise the dead. And O! ye perishing and guilty souls, may God
give you Rahab's faith, and you shall have this salvation, and shall
with her stand yonder, where the white-robed spotless hosts sing
unending hallelujah to God and the Lamb.
II. But mark, Rahab's faith was a SINGULAR FAITH. The city of Jericho
was about to be attacked; within its walls there were hosts of people
of all classes and characters, and they knew right well that if their
city should be sacked and stormed they would all be put to death; but
yet, strange to say, there was not one of them who repented of sin, or
who even asked for mercy, except this woman who had been a harlot. She,
and she alone was delivered, a solitary one among a multitude. Now,
have you ever felt that it is a very hard thing to have a singular
faith? It is the easiest thing in the world to believe as every body
else believes, but the difficulty is to believe a thing alone, when no
one else thinks as you think; to be the solitary champion of a
righteous cause when the enemy mustereth his thousands to the battle.
Now, this was the faith of Rahab. She had not one who felt as she did,
who could enter into her feelings and realize the value of her faith.
She stood alone. O! it is a noble thing to be the lonely follower of
despised truth. There be some who could tell you a tale of standing up
alone. There have been days when the world poured continually a river
of infamy and calumny upset them, but they stemmed the torrent, and, by
continued grace, made strong in weakness, they held their own until the
current turned, and they, in their success, were praised and applauded
by the very men who sneered before. Then did the world accord them the
name of "great." But where lay their greatness? Why, in this, that they
stood as firm in the storm as they stood in the calm–that they were as
content to serve God alone as they were to run by fifties. To be good
we must be singular. Christians must swim against the stream. Dead fish
always float down the stream, but the living fish forces its way
against the current. Now, worldly religious men will go just as every
body else goes. That is nothing. The thing is to stand alone. Like
Elijah, when be said, "I only am left and they seek my life;" to feel
in one's self that we believe as firmly as if a thousand witnesses
stood up by our side. O! there is no great right in a man, no
strong-minded right, unless he dares to be singular. Why, the most of
you are as afraid as you ever can be to go out of the fashions, and you
spend more money than you ought because you think you must be
respectable. You dare not move in opposition to your brethren and
sisters in the circle in which you move; and therefore you involve
yourselves in difficulties. You are blindfolded by the rich fabric of
fashion, and therefore many a wrong thing is tolerated because it is
customary. But a strong-minded man is one who does not try to be
singular, but who dares to be singular, when he knows that to be
singular is to be right. Now, Rahab's faith, sinner as she was, had
this glory, this crown about its head, that she stood alone, faithful
among the faithless found."
And why should not God vouchsafe the same faith to thee, my poor,
sinning, but contrite hearer? You live in a back street, in a house
which contains none but Sabbath breakers, and irreligious men and
women. But if you have grace in your heart you will dare to do right.
You belong to an infidel club; if you should make them a speech after
your own conscience, they would hiss you; and if you forsook their
company, they would persecute you. Go and try them. Dare them. See,
whether you can do it; for if you are afraid of men, you are taken in a
snare which may prove your grief and is now your sin. Mark you, the
chief of sinners can make the most daring of saints; the worst men in
the devil's army, when they are converted, make the truest soldiers for
Jesus. The forlorn hope of Christendom has generally been led by men
who have proved the high efficacy of grace to an eminent degree by
having been saved from the deepest sins. Go on, and the Lord give you
that high and singular faith!
III. Furthermore, this woman's faith was A STABLE FAITH, which stood
firm in the midst of trouble, I have heard of a church clergyman who
was once waited upon by his church warden, after a long time of
drought, and was requested to put up the prayer for rain. "Well," said
he, "my good man, I will offer it, but it's not a bit of use while the
wind is in the east, I'm sure." There are many who have that kind of
faith: they believe just so far as probabilities go with them, but when
the promise and the probability part, then they follow the probability
and part with the promise. They say, "The thing is likely, therefore I
believe it." But that is no faith, it is sight. True faith exclaims,
"The thing is unlikely, yet I believe it." This is real faith. Faith is
to say, that "mountains, when in darkness hidden, are as real as in
day." Faith is to look through that cloud, not with the eye of sight,
which seeth naught, but with the eye of faith, which seeth every thing,
and to say, "I trust him when I can not trace him; I tread the sea as
firmly as I would the rock; I walk as securely in the tempest as in the
sunshine, and lay myself to rest upon the surging billows of the ocean
as contentedly as upon my bed." The faith of Rahab was the right sort
of faith, for it was firm and enduring.
I will just have a little talk with Rahab this morning, as I suppose
old Unbelief did commune with her. Now, my good woman, don't you see
the absurdity of this thing? Why, the people of Israel are on the other
side of Jordan, and there is no bridge: how are they to get over? Of
course they must go up higher toward the fords; and then Jericho will
be for a long time secure. They will take other cities before coming to
Jericho; and, besides, the Canaanites are mighty, and the Israelites
are only a parcel of slaves; they will soon be cut in pieces, and there
will be an end of them; therefore, do not harbor these spies. Why put
your life in jeapordy for such an improbability? "Ah," says she, "I do
not care about the Jordan; my faith can believe across the Jordan, or
else it were only a dry-land faith." By-and-by, they march through the
Jordan dry shod, and then Faith gets firmer confidence. "Ah!" says she,
secretly within herself, what she would willingly have said to her
neighbors, "will you not now believe? will you not now sue for mercy?"
"No," they say; "the walls of Jericho are strong; can the feeble host
resist us? And lo on the morrow the troops are out, and what do they
do? They simply blow a number of rams' horns; her neighbors say, "Why,
Rahab, you do not mean to say you believe now? They are mad." The
people just go round the city, and all hold their tongues, except the
few priests blowing rams' horns. "Why, it is ridiculous. It were quite
a new thing in warfare to hear of men taking a city by blowing rams'
horns." That was the first day; probably the next day Rahab thought
they would come with scaling-ladders and mount the walls; but no, rams'
horns again, up to the seventh day; and this woman kept the scarlet
thread in the window all the time, kept her father and mother, and
brothers and sisters in the house, and would not let them go out; and
on the seventh day, when the people made a great shout, the wall of the
city fell flat to the ground; but her faith overcame her womanly
timidity, and she remained within, although the wall was tumbling to
the ground. Rahab's house stood alone upon the wall, a solitary
fragment amid a universal wreck, and she and her household were all
saved. Now would you have thought that such a rich plant would grow in
such poor soil–that strong faith could grow in such a sinful heart as
that of Rahab? Ah! but here it is that God exercises his great
husbandry. "My Father is the husbandman," said Christ. Any husbandman
can get a good crop out of good soil; but God is the husbandman who can
grow cedars on rocks, who can not only put the hyssop upon the wall,
but put the oak there too, and make the greatest faith spring up in the
most unlikely position. All glory to his grace! the great sinner may
become great in faith. "Be of good cheer, then, sinner! If Christ
should make thee repent, thou hast no need to think that thou shalt be
the least in the family. O! no; thy name may yet be written among the
mightiest of the mighty, and thou mayest stand as a memorable and
triumphant instance of the power of faith.
IV. This woman's faith was A SELF-DENYING FAITH. She dared to risk her
life for the sake of the spies. She knew that if they were found in her
house she would be put to death; but though she was so weak as to do a
sinful deed to preserve them, yet she was so strong that she would run
the risk of being put to death to save these two men. It is some thing
to be able to deny ourselves. An American once said, "I have got a good
religion; it's the right sort of religion; I do not know that it costs
me a cent a year; and yet I believe I am as truly a religious man as
anybody." "Ah!" said one who heard it, "the Lord have mercy on your
miserable stingy soul, for if you had been saved you would not have
been con tent with a cent a year"–a halfpenny per annum! I hazard this
assertion, that there is nothing in the faith of that man who does not
exercise self-denial. If we never give any thing to Christ's cause,
work for Christ, deny ourselves for Christ, the root of the matter is
not in us. I might call some of you hypocrites: you sing,
"And if I might make some reserve,
And duty did not call,
I love my God with zeal so great,
That I could give him all."
Yes, but you would not, though; you know better than that, for you do
not, as it is, give all, no, nor yet half, nor yet the thousandth part.
I suppose you think you are poor yourselves, though you have got some
thousand pounds odd a year, and so you keep it yourself, under the
notion that "he that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord." I don't
know how else it is you make your religion square with itself, and be
at all consistent. This woman said, "If I must die for these men, I
will; I am prepared, bad name as I have, to have a worse name still; as
a traitor to my country I am prepared to be handed down to infamy, if
it be necessary, for having betrayed my country in taking in these
spies, for I know it is God's will it should be done, and do it I will
at every hazard. "O men and brethren, trust not your faith, unless it
has self-denial with it. Faith and self-denial, like the Siamese twins,
are born together, and must live together, and the food that nourisheth
one must nourish both. But this woman, poor sinner as she was, would
deny herself. She brought her life, even as that other woman, who was a
sinner, brought the alabaster box of precious ointment, and broke it on
the head of Christ.
V. Not to detain you too long, another point very briefly. This woman's
faith was A SYMPATHISING FAITH. She did not believe for herself only;
she desired mercy for her relations, Said she, "I want to be saved, but
that very desire makes me want to have my father saved, and my mother
saved, and my brother saved, and my sister saved." I know a man who
walks seven miles every Sabbath to hear the gospel preached in a
certain place–a place where they preach the gospel. You know that very
particular, superfine sort–the gospel, a gospel, the spirit of which
consists in bad temper, carnal security, arrogance, and a seared
conscience. But this man was one day met by a friend, who said to him,
"Where is your wife?" "Wife?" said he to him. "What! does she not come
with you?" "O! no", said the man; "she never goes anywhere." "Well,
but," said he, "don't you try to get her to go, and the children?" "No;
the fact of it is, I think, if I look to myself that is quite enough."
"Well," said the other, "and you believe that you are God's elect, do
you?" "Yes." "Well, then," said the other, "I don't think you are,
because you are worse than a heathen man and a publican, for you don't
care for your own household; therefore I don't think you give much
evidence of being God's elect, for they love their fellow-creatures."
So sure as our faith is real, it will want to bring others in. You will
say, "You want to make proselytes." Yes; and you will reply, that
Christ said to the Pharisees, "Ye compass sea and land to make one
proselyte." Yes, and Christ did not find fault with them for doing so;
what he found fault with them for was this–"When ye have found him ye
make him tenfold more the child of hell than yourselves."
The spirit of proselyting is the spirit of Christianity, and we ought
to be desirous of possessing it. If any man will say, "I believe such
and such a thing is true, but I do not wish any one else to believe it,
I will tell you, it is a lie; he does not believe it, for it is
impossible, heartily and really to believe a thing, without desiring to
make others believe the same. And I am sure of this, moreover, it is
impossible to know the value of salvation without desiring to see
others brought in. Said that renowned preacher, Whitefield, "As soon as
I was converted, I wanted to be the means of the conversion of all that
I had ever known. There were a number of young men that I had played
cards with, that I had sinned with, and transgressed with: the first
thing I did was, to go to their houses to see what I could do for their
salvation, nor could I rest until I had the pleasure of seeing many of
them brought to the Saviour." This is a first-fruit of the Spirit. It
is a kind of instinct in a young Christian. He must have other people
feel what he feels. Says one young man, in writing to me this week, "I
have been praying for my fellow-clerk in the office; I have desired
that he might be brought to the Saviour, but at present there is no
answer to my prayers." Do not give a penny for that man's piety which
will not spread itself. Unless we desire others to taste the benefits
we have enjoyed, we are either inhuman monsters or outrageous
hypocrites; I think the last is most likely. But this woman was so
strong in faith that all her family were saved from destruction. Young
woman! you have a father, and he hates the Saviour. O! pray for him.
Mother! you have a son: he scoffs at Christ. Cry out to God for him.
Ay, my friends–young people like myself–we little know what we owe to
the prayers of our parents. I feel that I shall never be able
sufficiently to bless God for a praying mother. I thought it was a
great nuisance to be had in at such a time to pray, and more especially
to be made to cry, as my mother used to make me cry. I would have
laughed at the idea of any body else talking to me about these things;
but when she prayed, and said, "Lord, save my son Charles," and then
was overcome, and could not get any further for crying, you could not
help crying too; you could not help feeling; it was of no use trying to
stand against it. Ah! and there you are young man! Your mother is
dying, and one thing which makes her death-bed bitter is, that you
scoff God and hate Christ. O! it is the last stage of impiety, when a
man can think lightly of a mother's feelings. I would hope there are
none such here, but that those of you who have been so blessed, as to
have been begotten and brought forth by pious men and women may take
this into consideration–that to perish with a mother's prayers is to
perish fearfully; for if a mother's prayers do not bring us to Christ,
they are like drops of oil dropped into the flames of hell that will
make them burn more fiercely upon the soul for ever and ever. Take heed
of rushing to perdition over your mother's prayers!
There is an old woman weeping–do you know why? I believe she has sons
too, and she loves them. I met with a little incident in company, the
other day, after preaching. There was a little boy at the corner of the
table, and his father asked him, "Why does your father love you, John?"
Said the dear little lad, very prettily, "Because I'm a good boy."
"Yes." said the father, "he would not love you if you were not a good
boy." I turned to the good father and remarked that I was not quite
sure about the truth of the last remark, for I believed he would love
him if he were ever so bad. "Well," he said, "I think I should." And
said a minister at the table, "I had an instance of that yesterday. I
stepped into the house of a woman who had a son transported for life,
and she was as full of her son Richard as if be had been prime
minister, or had been her most faithful and dutiful son." Well, young
man, will you kick against love like that–love that will bear your
kicks, and will not turn round against you, but love you straight on
still? But perhaps that woman–I saw her weep just now–had a mother,
who has gone long ago, and she was married to a brutal husband, and at
last left a poor widow; she calls to mind the days of her childhood,
when the big Bible was brought out and read around the hearth, and "Our
Father which art in heaven" was their nightly prayer. Now, perhaps, God
is beginning some good thing in her heart. O! that he would bring her
now, though seventy years of age, to love the Saviour! Then would she
have the beginning of life over again in her last days, which will be
made her best days.
VI. One more head, and then we have done. Rahab's faith was a
SANCTIFYING FAITH. Did Rahab continue a harlot after she had faith? No,
no, she did not. I do not believe she was a harlot at the time the men
went to her house, though the name still stuck to her, as such ill
names will; but I am sure she was not afterward, for Salmon the prince
of Judah married her, and her name is put down among the ancestors of
our Lord Jesus Christ. She became after that a woman eminent for piety
walking in the fear of God. Now, you may have a dead faith which will
ruin your soul. The faith that will save you is a faith which
sanctifies. "Ah!" says the drunkard, "I like the gospel, sir; I believe
in Christ;" then he will go over to the Blue Lion to-night, and get
drunk. Sir, that is not the believing in Christ that is of any use.
"Yes," says another, "I believe in Christ;" and when he gets outside he
will begin to talk lightly, frothy words, perhaps lascivious ones, and
sin as before. Sir, you speak falsely; you do not believe in Christ.
That faith which saves the soul is a real faith, and a real faith
sanctifies men. It makes them say, "Lord, thou hast forgiven me my
sins; I will sin no more. Thou bast been so merciful to me, I will
renounce my guilt; so kindly hast thou treated me, so lovingly hast
thou embraced me, Lord, I will serve thee till I die; and if thou wilt
give me grace, and help me so to be, I will be as holy as thou art."
You can not have faith, and yet live in sin. To believe is to be holy.
The two things must go together. That faith is a dead faith, a corrupt
faith, which lives in sin that grace may abound. Rahab was a sanctified
woman. O that God might sanctify some that are here! The world has been
trying all manner of processes to reform men: there is but one thing
that ever will reform them, and that is, faith in the preached gospel.
But in this age preaching is much despised. You read the newspaper you
read the book; you hear the lecturer; you sit and listen to the pretty
essayist; but where is the preacher? Preaching is not taking out a
manuscript sermon, asking God to direct your heart, and then reading
pages prepared beforehand. That is reading–not preaching. There is a
good tale told of an old man whose minister used to read. The minister
called to see him, and said, "What are you doing John?" "Why, I'm
prophesying, sir." "Prophesying; how is that? You mean you are reading
the prophecies?" "No, I don't; I'm prophesying; for you read preaching,
and call it preaching, and I read prophecies, and, on the same rule,
that is prophesying." And the man was not far from right. We want to
have more outspoken, downright utterances of truth and appeals to the
conscience, and until we get these, we shall never see any very great
and lasting reforms. But by the preaching of God's word, foolishness
though it seem to some, harlots are reformed, thieves are made honest,
and the worst of men brought to the Saviour. Again let me
affectionately give the invitation to the vilest of men, if so they
feel themselves to be,
"Come, ye needy, come and welcome,
God's fine bounty glorify:
True belief and true repentance–
Every grace that brings us nigh–
Without money,
Come to Jesus Christ and buy."
Your sins will be forgiven, your transgressions cast away, and you
shall henceforth go and sin no more, God having renewed you, and he
will keep you even to the end. May God give his blessing, for Jesus
sake! Amen.