The Call of Abraham
A Sermon
(No. 261)
Delivered on Sabbath Morning, July 10th, 1859, by the
REV. C.H. SPURGEON
at the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens.
"By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he
should after receive for an inheritance obeyed; and he went out, not
knowing whither he went."–Hebrews 11:8.
ABRAHAM'S FAITH was of the most eminent order, for he is called the
Father of the Faithful. Let us rest assured that nothing but repeated
and fiery trials could have trained his faith to so great a strength as
that which it exhibited in his preparation to slay his son at the
command of God. This true Jerusalem blade was long annealed before it
gained its marvellous edge and matchless temper. Men come not to their
perfect stature except by years of growth. Stars cannot reach the
zenith of the heavens by one sudden flash, nay even the sun himself
must climb to his meridian. Trials are the winds which root the tree of
our faith. They are the trainers, drilling God's young soldiers, and
teaching their hands to war and their fingers to fight. Foremost among
Abraham's trials was that of being called away to a land which he had
never been; as this may be our trial also, I pray that my words may be
adapted to our present condition.
I. First, let us LOOK AT ABRAHAM. Abraham's family was originally an
idolatrous one; afterwards some beams of light shone in upon the
household, and they became worshippers of the true God; but there was
much ignorance mingled with their worship, and at least occasionally
their old idolatrous habits returned. The Lord who had always fixed on
Abraham to be his chosen servant and the father of his chosen people
upon earth, made Abraham leave the society of his friends and
relatives, and go out of Ur of the Chaldees, and journey away to the
land of Canaan, which be had promised afterwards to give him for an
inheritance.
We shall notice first what Abraham left, and then where Abraham went;
the trial is made up of these two things. What had he to leave? He had
to leave behind him those who were exceeding dear to him. It is true
that just after his first call, his own father, Terah, died, having
gone a part of the way with Abraham and detained Abraham a little while
by sickness. Abraham then went on his way obedient to the Lord's
command. Nevertheless, he left behind him all the associationof his
youth, the house in which he had been trained, the family with which he
had been nursed, all those whom he had known and with whom he had taken
sweet counsel; and he must go forth into exile from the family of his
love. He left behind him his native country, and to a patriot that is
no small struggle–to leave all the associations of one's country, and
bear with us one's native songs to be sung in distant valleys. Many a
man has felt keenly enough the separation from home and kindred, and
next to that, the sad banishment from his native land. Besides, we all
know with what inconvenience Abraham must have removed. He had a
considerable property in flocks and herds, and probably had the
ancestral dwelling house in which to reside. He must leave all these,
and he must also leave the fair pastures wherein his flocks and his
father's flocks had been fed, and he must wend his way into the
wilderness. He must give up all agricultural pursuits, renounce his
vine and his fig tree, and go his way, he knew not whither, to a land
which to him was as unknown as the valley of the shadow of death. Whose
of you who have had to part from those you loved, who have had your
hearts rent when loved ones have been torn away, can sympathize
somewhat with Abraham's trial when he left home and family, and
country, and all, to go forth into an unknown land. This is the place
from which he went.
How, let us turn to the place to which he journeyed. When men emigrate,
they, wish to know the nature of the country in which they are to live.
If it be a richer country than their own, although it be with some
reluctance, they spread the sail and speed across the waters; and it
may be, after they have settled there a little while, their mother
country is almost forgotten, and they find a settled dwelling-place in
their adopted land. But Abraham knew nothing of the country to which he
was about to move; be had simply God's promise that it should be his
inheritance. It was, it might be said, a wild goose chase, and the
profane would deride it as a mad and idle dream. Doubtless, the prudent
father cautioned him to avoid so great a risk, and the anxious mother
bade him remember that, as a bird wandereth from his nest, so is he
that leaveth his place. But amidst all this, Abraham was wiser than the
wisest, for he put aside all worldly maxims, he set the precept above
the maxim, and considered the promise more precious than the proverb.
Well was it for Abraham that he knew that the wise things of men are
often ignorance dressed out in its best clothes. It has been said by an
acute old writer, that when Christ came into Jerusalem–and he was
incarnate wisdom–he came riding upon an ass; but when Satan came into
paradise–and he is infernal folly–he came in the shape of a wise
creature, the subtle serpent. Wisdom came riding upon stupidity, and
folly came in the garments of craftiness; We shall often find it so in
our lives. Simplicities are next akin to revelations. Plain simple
things, and especially a plain simple obedience, are next akin to the
very wisdom of the seer; and he who knoweth how to read the precept
need not be afraid that the prophecy will ever contradict it, or render
obedience to the precept an act of folly. Abraham then went forth, he
knew not whither. "The journey is a long one," say some timid ones. "It
is so," said Abraham, "but God will help me on the way." "The end of
your journey may be doleful," they say. "No," caith Abraham, "it cannot
be doleful; it may be disappointing to my worldly ambition, but not to
my faith. I believe that God will be with me, and that take me where he
may, I shall lack no good thing." So Abraham went on his way along
alone and weary journey, and God did not desert him, but graciously
provided for him.
I have spoken to you of what Abraham left, and whither he went; now I
would have you observe for a moment how it was that Abraham went. It is
said that when he was commanded, he obeyed. Ere the precept had gone
forth, obedience had come forth to meet it with rejoicing. God had
scarcely spoken ere Abraham replied. Just as the thunder followeth the
lightning's flash, instanter, when the storm is near, so when faith is
near, the thunder of our obedience follows the mighty flash of God's
influence in our hearts. If God bids us do, we should do at once.
Abraham went without any hesitation. He did not say, "Lord give me a
little time: I will go in a week. Suffer me first to go and bury my
father." I do not find that he said, "Lord let me tarry till harvest be
reaped." No, he was commanded to go, and he went without hesitation.
There were no carnal arguments between God and Abraham, for God has not
invited his people to reason with him with human arguments. He has
invited sinners to do it.–"Come now and let us reason together," he
has said. When men have no faith, God invites them to reason, but when
they have faith, reasoning with God becomes a sin. Abraham asked no
question: he was not like Moses: he did not say, "Who am I that thou
shouldest send me;" but when he was commanded to go, he went and he
followed God without hesitation.
And then again, we have every reason to believe that he obeyed without
reluctance. He went as cheerfully away from his father's house as he
had ever gone into it. I know not that he was sent away with the voice
of tabret and of harp, but I am sure there was the voice of music in
his heart. He might have said, "I go as cheerfully to-day I know not
where, as ever I have gone to the fat land of Egypt or the
spice-bearing country of the Sabeans." Men said his journey was absurd
and deplorable, but to him it was the happiest and the best, for God
was with him; and if the star did not guide him as it did the wise men
to Bethlehem, yet there was a star within his own soul that shone like
a sun, and lightened his footsteps and cheered his spirit, and sent him
on his joyous way towards his appointed habitation. He went cheerfully,
not knowing whither he went, not starting and fretting like a bullock
unaccustomed to the yoke, but running with willing footsteps in the way
of God. The ancients pictured Mercury with wings upon its heels, and
surely faith hath them there.
"Tis love that makes our willing feet
In swift obedience move."
Love may be the wings, but the wings are upon the feet of faith, and it
flies to do the will of God whilst hearkening to his commands.
But, then, notice that when Abraham started he made no stipulations
with his Lord. If God had commanded Abraham to go to the utmost bounds
of the green earth, to "rivers unknown to song," Abraham would have
departed. If God had commanded him to ford the Atlantic, Abraham would
have obeyed. His feet would have been willing to attempt a miracle, and
the stormy billows would have been dry before his march. We may rest
assured that when Abraham started, he asked no questions concerning how
far or to what place he was journeying. He left that all in the hands
of God. His faith put its hand inside the hand of its father, and he
was content to be led wherever his father would lead him. Now, it is
always foolish in us to be led by man, for then "the blind lead the
blind, and both fall into the ditch;" but for the blind to be led by
God is one of the best and wisest things. We sometimes put blinkers
upon horses that they may not see too much, I fear we might wear such
things ourselves to great advantage. In watching with the eyes of
carnal reason for objections to God's precept and providence, it would
be well if our eyes were burnt out, for better for us to enter into
life having no eyes than having two eyes to follow our own devices and
find our end destruction in hell fire. Abraham's faith, then, was a
tried one. Add now I conclude this sketch of the Patriarch's call, by
observing that Abraham's faith was well rewarded.
I think with all the trials of Abraham, you and I might even envy his
position. That tent of his was a royal tent. Never did the curtains of
Solomon himself enshroud more true royalty, or kingly nobility, than
this poor tent in which Abraham sojourned. What a blessed man was he.
His very dreams were blessed. The Lord was his shield and his exceeding
great reward. A land was given to him, and was it a barren land? No.
The Jews of old used to say that Canaan was the breast of the world;
for there was always an abundance of milk and fatness. Other countries
might have been the world's extremities, but this was the world's own
breast, flowing with milk and honey. God gave him from the river of
Egypt, even to the great river–the river Euphrates, and he looking
from his starry height as an exalted patriarch, saw a race as numerous
as the sand of the sea inbabiting the land. And he expects a mightier
blessing yet. He looks for the day when the sons of Abraham shall at
the second coming of Christ be assembled in their own land, and all the
people shall walk in the light of Zion.
I think I have said enough about Abraham. Had my voice been strong
enough, I could have enlarged, for it is a subject upon which much
might be said extremely interesting to the spiritual mind.
II. But now I come to observe that YOU AND I MAY BE PLACED IN THE SAME
POSITION. At their first conversion very many of the people of God are
called to pass through the precise trial which Abraham endured. Some of
us, it is true, were born of pious parents, and our conversion was a
theme of joy to the home; it made jubilee; the fatted calf was killed,
and there was music and dancing. But others were born as children of
the Philistines; our parents were haters of God. I may be addressing
such. No sooner did you begin to attend the house of God, than your
father was the first to laugh at you, and when you were detected on
your knees, mother, and brothers, and sisters, all assailed you with
sneers and ridicule. It may be that you have suffered much household
persecution for the sake of Christ's cross, and the profession of it
you have made. Moreover, you may have been called to separate yourself
from your whole ancestry; for in looking back you cannot detect on the
family tree one branch that ever bore heavenly fruit. The whole head is
sick, and the whole heart is faint. The whole family has been given up
to Satan, and you have been called to bear a lonely protest to the
gospel of Christ; you have come out, you have blighted your own worldly
prospects, you have drowned your own interest in crossing the river.
You have suffered the loss of all things for Christ's sake, and perhaps
at the time you may have been greatly staggered; nay, even now you may
be passing through the fiery trial. You may be staggering in your soul,
and saying, "Can this be right? shall I give up my religion, shall I
put back into port, or shall I encounter these waves that threaten to
submerge my vessel?" Dear brothers and sisters, if father and mother
forsake you, then the Lord will take you up. "He that loveth father and
mother, and house and lands, more than me," saith Christ, "is not
worthy of me." You must leave all for Christ's sake. Be prepared. If
they will come with you, take their compliance gladly; if they will
not, then come alone; "Come ye out from among them; be ye separate,
touch not the unclean thing." Be an Abraham. Leave everything, and if
you do this in faith, verily ye shall not lack your reward. He is able,
and he has promised to give you in this life ten times more than you
lose for him, and in the world to come life everlasting.
Such Christians as I have referred to, who are not called in early life
to endure this trial, frequently have to bear its counterpart at
another stage in their journey. On a sudden their minds are enlightened
with regard to the pure simplicity of the gospel; their family is
professedly religious and they have been in the habit of attending a
certain place of worship with their kindred and friends, till at length
a change passes over their religious views. Perhaps it is a doctrinal
change; they have imbibed the orthodox faith from the pure fountain of
revelation itself, unalloyed by the traditions and qualifications of
men; they have cast away all the heterodox glossary of man, and have
determined to believe nothing but the sovereign grace of God. Perhaps
their views on baptism may have changed, and seeing nothing in
Scripture to warrant infant sprinkling, they have come out with a
determination to practice believer's baptism. It may be that this
entails the scoff and scorn of all who know them. This grieves the
hearts of those who know and love Jesus, and the question arises with
them, "What shall I do?" These matters may be non-essential, shall I
keep them back? Shall I for charity's sake weaken my testimony. Shall I
only bear testimony to points on which I may agree with other people,
and hold my tongue about the rest. Oh, my dear friends, such carnal
policy, if you practice it, will do you serious injury. Whatever you
believe, carry it out. Depend upon it a grain of truth is a grain of
diamond dust, and it is precious. There may be truths non-essential to
our salvation; but there are no non-essential truths with regard to our
comfort. Every truth is essential. We must keep back none, but follow
the Lord wholly; let this be your song,–
"Through floods and flames, if Jesus lead,
I'll follow where he goes,
'Hinder me not,' shall be my cry,
Though earth and hell oppose."
The tendency of the present age is to temporize; we are asked
continually to qualify our testimony; to cut off some portion of the
truth we preach; to smooth down and polish our words. God forbid; we
will not do so. Whatever we believe to be true, to the last jot and
tittle we will speak it out. I hope so long as I live there will always
be a straight road from my heart to my mouth, and that I shall be able
to preach whatever I believe in my soul, and to keep nothing reserved.
Do you the same. Though you should forsake all, and should be by all
forsaken, for the truth's sake, with Abraham's trial and Abraham's
faith, you shall have Abraham's honor and Abraham's reward.
How often has this temptation happened to the rich. When those who have
moved in court circles, have suddenly become the subjects of the
enlightening Spirit of grace, what opposition they have had to
encounter! Many have been the noble ladies and gentlemen who have sat
in this hall; yet, although I know many of them were impressed, how few
of them have remained! Here and there one; they shine like the
gleanings of the vintage.–Here and there one upon the topmost boughs.
And what is the reason? Is it that their consciences are incapable of
conviction? It is simply that the cares of this life, or the
deceitfulness of riches chokes the Word, and by-and-bye they are
offended. It is not likely that the simple worship of our unendowed
meeting-houses is to win the palm of courtly applause; it is not likely
that the name of Dissenter is to be held respectable; it is not likely
that Calvinism is to become the court religion of England; it is not
likely, at least at present, that a poor, simple, honest man's
ministry, will be a ministry that courtiers regard; we never expected
it. Nevertheless, there have been some, and God bless them, who have
not been ashamed to come out, and leave behind them their former
associates and take part with the despised people of God, scarcely
knowing whither they went. Though they did know we were poor, and most
of us uneducated and illiterate, they have taken their portion with us,
and they have shown no signs of turning back but do even glory in that
which some count to their shame. God bless them, and that abundantly.
Again, this trial of faith cometh oftentimes in matters of providence.
We have been lining our nests very softly, and counting all the eggs
that are laid therein, with the greatest cheerfulness and delight; we
have had much goods laid up for many years, and all of a sudden,
Misfortune, like a wicked boy, has climbed the tree, and pulled down
the nests, and the birds had to fly, and we have said, "Whither shall
we go?" But God has comforted us, and we have said in our hearts,
"Every tree in the forest of earth is doomed to the axe, why,
therefore, should we build our nest here? Let us fly away and find our
home in the rock of ages." And God has rewarded our faith. Our
business, though suddenly blighted when flourishing in one place, has
been, when removed amidst sad misgivings and dark uncertainties, even
more flourishing in another; or if not, if trials have multiplied and
poverty has succeeded wealth, yet grace has increased, and as our
afflictions abounded, our consolations have much more abounded. I
believe, dear friends, that many and many a time you, in your
providential journey will have to go forth, not knowing whither you are
going. But it is good for you; do not murmur at it. If the father of
the faithful had to do it, why should the sons murmur? The father of
the family must not know whither he was going, and shall you, the sons
and daughters, long to read the future with whistful curious eyes? No,
wherever God in his providence guides you, let it be your joy to know
that he is too wise to err–too good to be unkind.
And, beloved, this is what I feel at the present moment respecting the
position of ourselves as a congregation. I was to this test by
considering the way in which God led us, especially in reference to
this place. It is now nearly three years since Exeter Hall was shut
against us, for reasons which I have never considered to be fully
justifiable. Then it was we went forth not knowing whither we went, and
this place was prepared for us. It is more than probable that after two
more Sabbaths have elapsed we must go forth again not knowing whither
we shall go. But my faith is fixed upon him who has provided for us
hitherto. This congregation cannot be scattered. God has gathered it,
and we will go forth, being assured that a place shall be discovered in
which we shall meet, and this shall work for the furtherance of the
gospel, and for the glory of God. I feel that perhaps God has another
host of sinners to be aroused and converted to Christ. We are getting
old steady sort of folks here, and we have settled into a respectable
concern. We may be turned into the streets, but, God going with us, we
care not where we go. Wherever it is we shall be kept together; we are
not men whose attachment has been formed hastily. We love each other.
Like Abraham, and Lot and his family, we will journey together; we have
no cause to fear. Do not, I entreat you, betray the slightest distress
about it; if God has done it, he has wise purposes, let us submit in
silence, and believe it must and shall be well. Abraham went forth "not
knowing whither he went." We will imitate him. While Abraham's faith is
our faith Abraham's God is our God. He speaks and every doubt is
hushed–"Fear not Abraham, I am thy shield and thine exceeding great
reward." So then we may boldly say, "The Lord is my helper, and I will
not fear what man shall do unto me."
And I thought, while meditating upon this text, that the time must come
to each of us, when, in a certain sense, we must go forth from this
world, not knowing the place to which we are going. The hour is coming
when you and I shall lie low upon our silent beds of languishing, and
the message will come–"Arise and go forth from the house in which thou
hast dwelt, from the city in which thou halt done business, from thy
wife, from thy children, from thy bed, and from thy table. Arise and
take thy last journey." And what know I of the journey? A little have l
read of it, and somewhat has been revested by the Spirit to my soul;
but how little do we know of the realms of the future! We know there is
a black and stormy river called "Death." He bids me cross it. May he
give me grace to go through the stream! And, after death, what cometh?
No traveler hath returned to tell. Some say it is a land of confusion
and of the shadow of death. Well, be it what it may, we will go forth,
not knowing whither we go, but yet knowing that since he is with us,
passing through the gloomy vale, we need fear no evil. We must be going
to our Father's house, be that where it may. We must be going to our
heavenly Father's kindly home, where Jesus is: to that royal city which
hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God. This shall be our
last removal, to dwell for ever with him we love, to dwell in the bosom
of God. We will take our last journey, and we will not fear to take it,
for God is our refuge and strength, our helper in the hour of trouble
and of death.
III. And now, my voice almost fails me, and therefore. I must come at
once to the last point, which is that of EXHORTING YOU MOST CHEERFULLY
TO FOLLOW THE GUIDE OF DIVINE PROVIDENCE AND PRECEPT, LEAD IT WHEREVER
IT MAY.
Let us follow the Shepherd, with a ready mind, because he has a perfect
right to lead us wherever he pleases. We are not our own, we are bought
with a price. If we were our own, Ye might repine at our circumstances,
but since we are not, let this be our cry, "Do what thou wilt, O Lord,
and though thou slay me, yet will I trust in thee;" we are not true to
our profession of being Christians, if we pick and choose for
ourselves. Picking and choosing are great enemies to submission. In
fact, they are not at an consistent therewith. If we are really
Christ's Christians, let us say,"It is the Lord, let him do what
seemeth him good."
And then in the next place we ought to submit because wherever be may
lead us, if we know not where we go, we do know one thing, we know with
whom we go, we do not know the road, but we do know the guide. We may
feel that the journey is long, but we are quite sure that the
everlasting arms that carry us are strong enough, be the journey never
so many leagues in length. We do not know what may be the inhabitants
of the land into which we may come, Canaanites or not; but we do know
that the Lord our God is with us, and he shall surely deliver them into
our hands.
Another reason why we should follow with simplicity and faith all the
commands of God, is this, because we may be quite sure they shall all
end well. They may not be well apparently while they are going on, but
they will end well at last. You sometimes see in a factory the wheels
running some this way, and some the other, and some crossways, and they
seem to be playing all sorts of anticks, but somehow or other the
deviser brings them all to work for some settled object. And I know
that come prosperity or come adversity, come sickness or come wealth,
come foe, come friend, come popularity, or come contempt, his purpose
shall be worked out, and that purpose shall be pure, unmingled good to
every blood-bought heir of mercy on whom his heart is set.
And I may add, to conclude. Let us as a congregation, above all others,
put the most implicit trust in our wonder-working God; when we
recollect what he has already done for us, how he hath made the wrath
of man to praise him, the contempt, the contumely, and the scorn has
helped to bring to this place the willing thousands to hear the Word.
The abuse of our enemies has been our best help, our grandest
assistance; and in looking back day after day, and Sabbath after
Sabbath. I can only hold up my hands and exclaim, "What hath God
wrought!" And shall we doubt for the future? No; mariner, hoist the
sail; loose the rudder bands; drag up the anchor; once again to sea we
go, with the flag of faith at the masthead, with Jehovah at the helm,
to a sure port the vessel shall be guided, though the storm may howl,
and hell beneath shall be stirred; for God is with us, and the God of
Abraham is our refuge. God give to every one of you the firmest trust
in his providence, that you may go forth not knowing whither you go.
As for you that believe not in God, may you be led to believe in the
Lord Jesus Christ as in your Redeemer, and afterwards to trust your
God, and leave al your concerns in his hands.