The Sluggard's Reproof
(No. 2766)
A SERMON INTENDED FOR READING ON LORD'S-DAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1902.
DELIVERED BY C. H. SPURGEON,
AT NEW PARK STREET CHAPEL, SOUTHWARK, ON A THURSDAY EVENING, DURING THE
WINTER OF 1859.
"The sluggard will not plow because of the cold; therefore shall he beg
in harvest and have nothing." Proverbs 20:4.
LAZINESS is the crying sin of Eastern nations. I believe that the
peculiar genius of the Anglo-Saxon character prevents our being, as a
nation, guilty of that sin. Perhaps we have many other vices more rife
in our midst than that, but, in the East, almost every man is a lazy
man. If you tell a Turk in Constantinople that his street is
filthy–and it certainly is, for there the offal lies and is never
swept away–he says, sitting with his legs crossed, and smoking his
pipe, "The Lord wills it." If you tell him there is a fire at the
bottom of the street, he does not agitate himself, but he says, "God
wills it." If you were to tell him that he was sitting on a heap of
gunpowder and that he had better take heed lest a spark should blow him
up, probably he would never move, or take his pipe out of his mouth,
except to say, "God wills it." Some of the most extraordinary instances
of idleness are told us of those people by travelers in the East to
this day. The further you go East, the less activity there is–the
further you go West in the world, the more restless does the human mind
become and, consequently, I suppose, the more active.
Yet, while the fact of the superabundance of idleness in the East is a
great explanation of the reason why Solomon speaks so much against it
in the Proverbs–and seeing that this Book was meant to be read, not
only in the East, but everywhere else–I fear that there must also be
some laziness in the West and, as this Book was meant to be read in
England, I should imagine there must be a few sluggards in England! And
this happens to be not a matter of imagination with me at all, for I
know there are many such. You can brush against them at the corners of
our streets. There are to be found many such who are slothful in
business, who certainly are not worth their salt, who do not earn a
livelihood for themselves even with regard to the things of this life.
There are still far too many to whom the familiar lines of Dr. Watts
may be applied–
"'Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him complain, 'You have waked
me too soon, I must slumber again."
It sometimes happens, too, that these idle people are religious people,
or profess to be so, though I have no faith in that man's religion who
is lazy. He always reminds me of a certain monk who went to a monastery
determined to give himself up entirely to contemplation and meditation.
When he reached the place, he saw all the monks at work, tilling the
ground, plowing, or trimming the vines around the monastery, so he very
solemnly observed as he entered, "Labor not for the meat that
perishes." The brothers smiled and continued in their labors. He
thought it his duty to reprove them a second time by saying, "Martha is
cumbered with much serving, but I have chosen the good part, which
shall not be taken from me." However, it was taken from him, for the
bell did not ring for him at the usual time for meals and our brother,
after waiting some few hours in his cell in prayer, beginning to feel
certain calls within, came out and, accosting the prior of the
monastery, enquired, "Do not the brethren eat?" "Do you eat?" he asked.
"I thought you were a spiritual man, for you said to the brethren,
"Labor not for the meat that perishes." "Oh, yes," he replied, "I know
I said that, but I thought the brethren ate." "Yes," answered the
prior, "so they do, but we have a rule in our monastery that none eat
but those who work. There is such a rule to be found in Scripture,
too," he reminded the monk, "Paul himself has said it, "If any man will
not work, neither will he eat." I think the master of that monastery
acted and spoke wisely. A
man must work in this life. He was sent to this world that he might be
diligent in his calling, in the position in life in which God has been
pleased to place him.
However, I do not intend to treat now of this phase of the subject. I
am about to direct your attention to spiritual things. I am no
legalist–I know that the works of the Law of God can save no man, for,
"by the deeds of the Law there shall no flesh be justified." I know
that the work of salvation is by Grace, alone, and that all our good
works are not our own, but are worked in us by Divine Grace, yet, at
the same time, I cannot shut my eyes to the fact that, although
Scripture continually denies that salvation is by works, it always
speaks of the work of Grace in the heart of man and of the experience
of the Believer as being a hard work! For, do we not continually hear
the Christian described as a pilgrim, as one who is on a long and a
weary journey? He is described, not as a gentleman who is carried on
other men's backs, or who is borne along in a vehicle, but as a pilgrim
who has to toil along the road–and he is told not to be weary and
faint in his mind. He is warned that the road will be very rough and
very long and that he will have to run with endurance the race that is
set before him. The very use of such a figure as that does not look as
if religion were a lazy thing!
Then, again, we find religion described as a battle. The Christian is
continually exhorted to take unto himself the whole armor of God and to
fight the good fight of faith. He is told to resist even unto blood,
striving against sin. That does not look as if it were a very easy
thing to be a Christian–as if Christianity were a kind of thing to be
kept in a band-box. It looks as if there were something to be done,
some foe to fight, some great task to be accomplished. When I also find
another figure used, which is, perhaps, yet more forcible, because it
combines the idea of pressing forward with that of fighting–when I
find the figure of agonizingused–"Agonize to enter in at the strait
gate." Press, push, labor, strive, toil–I cannot imagine that to be a
Christian is to be an idler or a sluggard! No, my Brothers and Sisters,
though salvation is not by our works, yet, as sure as ever the Lord
puts Divine Life into us, we shall begin to labor for the meat that
endures to eternal life, we shall strive to enter in at the strait
gate, we shall run perseveringly the race that is set before us and we
shall endure hardness as good soldiers of Jesus Christ!
Now it is just this point in religion that many men do not like. They
prefer an easy religion–flowery meads, flowing streams and sunny
glades–all those things they like, but they do not like the climbing
of mountains, or the swimming of rivers, or going through fires, or
fighting, struggling and wrestling. They go along the pilgrim's way
till they come to some slough and then they are offended. When it was
all clean walking, they did not mind, but when they tumble into the
bog, and begin to dirty themselves, they straightway creep out on that
side of the slough that is nearest to their own house and–like Mr.
Pliable in "The Pilgrim's Progress," of whom you have often heard–they
go back to their house in the City of Destruction. They went on the
right road for a little while, but they found that religion was not as
easy a thing as they expected and, therefore, they turned back.
Now, it is of these people I am going to talk. "The sluggard will not
plow because of the cold; therefore shall he beg in harvest and have
nothing." When I have spoken about him, I shall talk a little to those
of you who are plowing in God's field, exhorting you not to make
excuses, not to be dilatory in your Master's service–but to plow all
the harder the colder it is–because the day is coming when a joyful
harvest shall reward all your pains!
I. First, I am going to speak of THIS SLUGGARD.
Plowing is hard work and the sluggard does not like it. If he does go
up and down the field once or twice, he makes a short turn of it and
leaves a wide headland. And, moreover, he leans on the handle of his
plow and, therefore, the plow does not go in very deep–not so deep as
it would if he were to do as the active plowman does–hold the handles
up in order that the plow may go deeply into the soil. But he goes
nodding along, half-dragged by his horses and glad to do nothing. He
would be very pleased, indeed, if his feet would go without being moved
and if the clods would but move one another and lift his feet up for
him, so that he might not have the trouble of carrying himself after
his plow! But the lazy man knows that he will be laughed at if he says
plowing is hard work, so he does not like to say that. "I must get a
better excuse," he thinks, so he says, "It is so cold! It is so cold! I
would not mind going out to plow, but I am frozen almost to death. I
shall get frostbite–I have not clothes enough to keep me warm! Oh, how
the snow comes down! The ponds are all frozen, the ground is so
hard–the plow will get broken–it is so cold!"
Lazy fellow! Why don't you say that plowing is hard work? That is the
English of it! But no, he must have a more genteel excuse that he may
not be so likely to be laughed at. Suppose it were not cold? Do you
know what he would say? "Oh, it is so hot! I cannot plow! The
perspiration runs down my cheeks. You wouldn't have me plowing in this
hot
weather, would you?" Supposing it were neither hot nor cold? Why, then
he would say, "I believe that it's going to rain!" And if it didn't
rain, he would say the ground was too dry–for he holds a bad excuse is
better than none and, therefore, he will keep on making excuses to the
end of the chapter! He will do anything rather than go and do the work
he does not like–that is, plowing.
Now I have made you smile. I wish I could make you cry because there
will be more to cry about than to smile at in this matter when I come
to show you that this is spiritually the case with many. There are men
and women who would like to go to Heaven without having any trouble.
They want to enjoy the harvest, but they do not like the labor of
plowing. They have not the common honesty to say, "I do not like
religion." What do you suppose they say? Why, they make another excuse!
Sometimes it is this, "Well, I am as anxious as anybody to be a
Christian, but, you know, these are such hard times." Hard times? The
times are always hard to such people as you are! "But in these times,"
they say, "there is no warmth in Christians–they are all so
cold-hearted. Why, I go up to the Chapel and nobody speaks to me! There
is not one-half the religion that there used to be and what there is,
is not half as good as it once was. The article is depreciated. Now, if
I lived over in Ireland, then I would plow! If I lived over where there
is the Revival, you know I would be a saint! Or if I had lived in the
Apostle Paul's days and heard such a preacher as that, or if I could
have talked to those early Christians, I would not object to be a
Christian! But these are such cold-hearted times–so many hypocrites
and so few Christians–I don't think I shall trouble about religion at
all."
Ah, that is a pretty excuse, for you know that what you are saying is a
lie! In the first place, you know that there is life in Christ's Church
even now and that there are still (if you would but look) a few good,
loving, warm-hearted Christians to be found. You know that there are
still faithful preachers left. The faithful have not failed from among
men and although hypocrites are plentiful, there are still many sincere
souls. And what if there were not? What business is that of yours? Are
you content to be lost because the Church is not what it ought to be?
Just look at the matter in that light. Because there are a great many
hypocrites, you have made up your mind to go to Hell? Is that the
English of it? Because there are such multitudes going there, you think
you will go, too, and keep them company? Is that what you mean?
"No," you say, "not that!" That is it, Mr. Sluggard, though you don't
like to say so. It is a bad excuse you have made. It won't hold water
and you know it won't! You know very well that when your conscience
speaks, it tells you that this excuse is a bad one. It is one that will
not satisfy you when you are lying on your dying bed and, above all, it
is one that will vanish in the Day of Judgment, just as the mists
vanish before the rising sun! What business can it be of yours what the
Church is or what the Church isn't? If you will not think about the
things of God in these times, neither would you in the best of
times–and if the present agency is not blessed to you, neither would
you be converted though one rose from the dead!
"But," says Mr. Sluggard, "if that is not a good excuse, I will give
another. It is all very well for you, Mr. Minister, to talk about being
religious, but you don't knew where I live. You don't know my business
and the sort of shop mates I work with. You know very well it is a hard
matter for me to hold my own as it is, with merely going to a place of
worship, but if I were really to throw all my heart into it, I would
have them all down upon me. I tell you, Sir, my business is such that I
could not carry it on, and yet be a Christian." Then, Mr. Sluggard, if
it is a business that you cannot carry on without going to Hell with
it–give it up, Sir! "Ah, but then, Sir, we must live!" Yes, Sir, but
then we must die! Will you please remember that, for that seems to me
to be a great deal more of a necessity. Sometimes, when people say to
me, "Why, you know we must live," I do not see any necessity for that.
Some of them would be almost as well dead as alive. "But we must live."
I am not sure of that. I am sure of another thing–you must die. Oh,
that you would think rather of dying than of living! Besides, it is all
nonsense about your business being one that you cannot carry on and be
a Christian. I tell you, Sir, there is no business that is a legitimate
one, which a man cannot carry on and adorn his Master in it! Or, if
there is such a business, come out of it as you would out of the
burning city of Sodom!
"But then I am in such an ungodly household, Sir! I am so laughed at."
Yes, Sir, but if somebody were to leave you a thousand pounds on
condition that you wore a red ribbon round your arm–you know you would
be laughed at if you did! Or suppose the condition was that you were to
wear a fool's-cap for a week and you would have a thousand pounds a
year for life, afterwards–would you not wear it? Ah, I should not like
to trust you. I believe you would put it on and when people laughed,
you would say, "You may laugh, but I am well rewarded for it." Yet here
your soul is at stake– and a little laughter, you say, drives you
back? I do not believe you, Sir! I do not think you are such a fool as
that, to be
laughed into Hell–for you cannot be laughed out again by all their
laughter! I believe your second excuse is as bad as your first one! I
shatter it into a thousand pieces! The fact is, Sir, you don't like
religion–and that is the truth! You don't want to give up your sins!
You are willing to continue to be what you are–a sinner dead in
trespasses and sins. That is the plain, simple English of it and all
the excuses you can make will not alter it!
"No," says one, "but it is such a hard thing to be a Christian. Very
often, when I hear the preacher saying what manner of persons we ought
to be, I think, 'Ah, I had better not set out, for I shall never go all
the way. When I hear of the trials, temptations and troubles of the
child of God, I think I will not go.'" There you are again, Mr.
Sluggard, you will not plow because of the cold! But do you not
remember what has been so often impressed upon your mind–though we
have many troubles and many trials, yet Grace is all-sufficient for us?
Do you not know that, though the way is long, yet our shoes are iron
and brass? And though the work is hard, yet Omnipotence has promised to
give us strength all-sufficient? You only look at one side of the
subject, and not at the other. Why not think for a moment on that Grace
of God which guarantees to assist and to carry through all in whom it
begins the good work? Sir, your excuse is an idle one! I tell you again
that the naked truth is this–you love your sins–you love them better
than Heaven, better than eternal life and that you are a lazy fellow!
You do not like prayer, nor faith, nor repentance–and I warn you that
your fate will be that of this sluggard who begged in harvest and had
nothing!
Someone else says, "I have no time, I have not indeed." Time for what,
Sir? What do you mean? "Why, I have no time to pray an hour in the
morning!" Who said you had? "But I have no time to be attending to
religion all the day long." Who asked you to do so, Sir? I suppose you
find time for pleasure–perhaps you find time for what you call
recreation and the like. There are many precious portions of time that
you sweep away and never use. Where there's a will, there's a way, and
if the Holy Spirit has made you love religion and the things of God,
you will find time enough. That is a worse excuse than any other, for
God has given you the time, and if you have not got it, you have lost
it! Look for it, for you will be accountable for it at the Last Great
Day. You have been hiding your talent in a napkin and now you say you
cannot find it! You had it, Sir–where it is, is your business, not
mine. Look for it and God help you to shake off your sloth! And may you
in earnest be constrained by the Holy Spirit to be a Christian and to
espouse the life of the pilgrim–and run with diligence the race that
is set before you!
I have thus tried to describe the sluggard as the man who would not
plow because of the cold–the man who would like to be a Christian,
only he does not like the Cross–who would like to get to Heaven, only
he does not like the road to there. He would be saved, but, oh, he
cannot give up his sin, he cannot live in holiness. He would like to be
crowned conqueror, but he does not like to fight the battle. He would
like to reap a harvest, but he neither cares to plow nor to sow. Mr.
Sluggard, I have three little sayings to repeat to you. Will you try to
treasure them up? No pains, no gains. No sweat, no sweet. No mill, no
meal. Will you just remember those three things? I will tell you again,
lest you should forget them. No pains, no gains! No sweat, no sweet! No
mill, no meal! So just get up, Sir, and may God grant that you may get
up to some purpose! "Awake" you that sleep, and arise from the dead and
Christ shall give you light." "Let us not sleep, as do others; but let
us watch and be sober."
But, Mr. Sluggard, this life is the time of plowing and sowing. It is
wintertime with us now–but wait a while and the springtime shall come,
and after that the harvest! There are some of us who are longing for
the time when we shall reap the golden harvest–the harvest given to us
by Divine Grace, but yet a harvest for which we have sown the seed, as
Hosea beautifully puts it–"Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap in
mercy." We sow in righteousness, but the harvest is not given us as the
effect of righteousness, it is given us by mercy! Reap in mercy! What a
joyous day that will be when God's true sowers shall reap their
harvests! The angels shall be with us! They shall cry harvest home with
us and men and angels, hand in hand, shall enter the gates of Paradise,
bringing their sheaves with them!
Where's our friend the sluggard? Oh, there he is! Is he cold now? No,
but how different he looks! He looked to me quite a smart gentleman
when he was sitting by the fire last winter, rubbing his hands and
saying that he would not plow. What does he look like now? What is his
disembodied spirit like? Alas, poor wretch, he is begging! The saints
are shouting, but he is moaning. They are rejoicing, but he is
sorrowing. They are taken into Heaven and housed in the Lord's garner,
but he is a houseless wanderer, begging! Look at him! He has just gone
up to the great golden gate and he has lifted that knocker of
pearl–listen to the noise–and he cries, "Lord, Lord, I have eaten and
I have drunk in Your Presence!" Just like you, Mr. Sluggard, you are
all for eating and drinking–"and You have taught in our streets"–
very likely, Sir! You are just the man to be taught, but you never did
anything that you were taught to do! Do you hear the terrible words of
the loving Jesus, "I never knew you! Depart from Me, you worker of
iniquity"? The golden gate does not open to him. He is still begging,
but the answer comes, "Your time of sowing you neglected and now your
time of reaping must be a time of beggary forever."
Now he goes up to yonder angel and he cries, "Bright spirit, introduce
me to the courts of Heaven! It is true, I wasted my time on earth, but,
oh, how bitterly do I repent it now! Oh, if I could but have back my
wasted hours, what would I not do? If I could but hear the Gospel
preached again, I would hear it with both my ears and I am sure I would
receive it and be obedient to it." But the angel says, "I have no power
to let you in. Besides, if I could, I would not. You had your day and
it is gone–and now you have your night. You had your lamp, but you did
not trim it. You took no care to have oil in your vessel for your
lamp–and now your lamp is gone out and the Bridegroom's door is shut
and you cannot enter." Now I see him and he is very sad,
indeed–begging of a saint who has just come up, and saying to him,
"Give me of your oil, for my lamp is gone out." But the other replies,
"Not so, for there is not enough for me and for you. God has given me
Grace for myself, but I have none to spare for anybody else."
I remember a mother's dream–a mother who once, after having exhorted
her children and talked, prayed and wrestled with them, retired to
rest. And she dreamt, at the Day of Judgment, she and her children
arose from the family tomb. The trumpet was rending the air with its
terrific blast and there she was–"saved!" But her children still
unregenerate. She dreamt that they clasped her round the waist, clung
to her garments and cried, "Mother, save us! Take us into Heaven with
you!" But she dreamt that a spirit came–some bright angel–dashed them
from her and wafted her aloft to Heaven, while they were left. And she
remembered, too, in that dream, that she then had no care for them, no
thought for them–her spirit was so swallowed up with the one thought
that God was dealing justly with them–that they had had their day for
sowing and that they had not sowed–and now must not expect a harvest.
The Justice of God so filled her breast that she could not even weep
for them when she was taken from them!
Ah, sluggard, you will be begging in another world! And though you will
not think of your soul's concerns now, you will think of them then!
There is a place where there is a dreadful prayer meeting every day and
every hour in the day–a prayer meeting where all the attendants
pray–not merely one, but all! And they pray, too, with sighs, and
groans, and tears–and yet they are never heard. That prayer meeting is
in Hell! There is a begging meeting there, indeed. Oh, that there were
on earth half the prayer there will be there! Oh, that the tears shed
in eternity had but been shed in time! Oh, that the agony that the lost
ones now feel had but been felt beforehand! Oh, that they had repented
before their life was ended! Oh, that their hearts had been made tender
before the terrible fire of Judgment had melted them!
But notice that though the sluggard begs in harvest, he gets nothing.
Now, in harvest time, when everything is plentiful, every man is
generous. If a man sees a beggar in the streets in harvest time, he
will refuse him nothing. He may go and glean in the field, for there is
enough and to spare for all. It is a season of abundance! No man
grudges his poor fellow man then. But here is the terrible point, in
that last harvest, when the slothful man shall beg for bread, no man
will give him anything. I see him standing at the gate of Heaven and he
looks in. There they are feasting and he says, "Give me a crumb–a
crumb is all I ask! Let me have what the dogs have that feed under
their masters' table." But it is denied him. There he is, in the flames
of Hell, and he cries, "Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send
Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my
tongue," but it is refused him. He begs in harvest and he has nothing!
The begging becomes all the more terrible because its results are so
disappointing. "And to think that others should have so much, yet I
myself should have nothing–others be blessed, but myself cursed," he
laments.
I do think that one of the stings of Hell will be for the sinner to see
some of his own relatives and friends in Heaven and himself shut out.
Think, my dear Hearer, what you will feel if you should see your wife
in Paradise and yourself be eternally excluded! Mother, what if you
should see those babies of yours, those precious infants who took an
early flight to Heaven–what if you should see them above, but between
you and them a great gulf fixed so that you can never reach them–you
are shut out and they are glorified? Turn that thought over, I beseech
you, and may God grant Grace to every one of you, that, by the love of
Christ, you may be constrained to escape from Hell and fly to Heaven,
for thus said the Lord unto you, "Escape, flee for your life, look not
behind you, stay not in all the plain, but flee to the mountain of
Christ Jesus–lest you be consumed."
Be wise today, O Sinner–tomorrow may never come! Now, now, repent! Now
cast your soul on Christ! Now give up your sins! Now may the Spirit
help you to begin a new life and to be in earnest about salvation for,
remember, though you laughed when I described the sluggard just now, it
will be no laughing matter if you are found in his hot shoes at the Day
of Judgment–if his rags shall be on you and his begging shall be your
everlasting portion! God grant that you may have done with your idle
excuses! May you truly look at the matter as in the light of the Day of
Judgment and God grant you Grace so to act that from this time on you
may be found among the most diligent, the most fervent and the most
anxious of the followers of Christ! May you be found plowing every day
with a plow drawn by a Superior Power, but a plow which shall enter
into the world and leave some furrow of usefulness behind it, so that,
in the day of harvest, you may have your portion and not, like the
sluggard, beg and have nothing!
II. Well, now, having thus addressed the sluggard, I have a few minutes
to spare in which to address THE PEOPLE OF GOD. And, knowing you to be
by far the larger portion of those whom I address, I am sorry that I
have so little time for you, but can only make just these few remarks.
My dear Brothers and Sisters, the Lord has, by His Sovereign Grace, set
our hand to the plow. We once, like our poor fellow sinners, hated this
plow and we never would have come to it unless Sovereign Grace had
brought us. Now we have shaken off that old sloth of ours and we are in
earnest about the matter of salvation. But do we not, at times, feel
this old sluggishness creeping on us? When we are asked to do something
for the cause of Christ, do we not make excuses? There is a Brother
over yonder–he ought to join the Church, but he does not, and his
excuse is a very stupid one! I will not tell you what it is. There is
another Brother–never mind who it is–the man the cap fits, let him
wear it till it is worn out–and may it be worn out soon! He ought to
teach in the Sunday school, he lives quite conveniently, but he does
not like the school. There is another Brother–he ought to be doing
something or other, but he says that, really, his position is, just
now, such that he does not see that he can. The fact is, it is cold, my
Brothers, and you don't want to plow!
Now, remember, those are always coldest that do not plow, for those
that plow get warm. I have always noticed that the people in a Church
who quarrel are the idle ones. Those that do nothing always grumble.
They say, "Ah, there is no love in the Church"–because YOU haven't
any! "Ah," you say, "but they don't speak to one another." You mean you
don't speak to them. "No," says one, "but they are not active." You
mean you are not active, for that which you think they are, depend upon
it, you are yourselves, for we mostly see ourselves in other people.
The idea we get of others is close upon the heels of the idea we ought
to have of ourselves, except when it is a good notion–and then the
less we indulge the thought as being a picture of ourselves, the
better!
But whenever this sluggishness creeps upon you, I want you to think of
One whom you love, who will be an example to you. Now, who do you
suppose it is to whom I am about to direct your eyes if you begin to be
weary and faint in your minds? Ah, it is not to a deacon of the Church,
or to a minister! It is not to some renowned preacher of the olden
time– yes, it is–I have made a mistake there–it isto a renowned
Preacher of the olden time–One whom you love! Whenever you feel faint
and weary, will you think of One who plowed more than you ever can
plow, and deeper furrows, too, and plowed more terrible plowing, on a
harder rock and a more terrible soil than you have to plow upon?
Whenever you are weary and faint in your minds, consider Him! "And who
is that?" you ask. Why, you know, it is your Lord and Master, Jesus
Christ! Whenever sloth creeps on you and you begin to lean on the plow
handles–and the devil whispers, "Look back"–do not look back! Look UP
and see Him–the Crucified One–and you will no longer be weary, I am
sure.
Myconius, the friend of Luther, had made up his mind that he would not
help Luther, but that he would stay in a monastery, quiet and alone.
The first night he went there, he had a dream to this effect. He
dreamed that the Crucified One appeared to him–with the nail prints
still in His hands, and that He led him away to a fountain into which
He plunged him–a fountain of blood! He beheld himself washed
completely clean and, being very rejoiced for that, he was willing to
sit down. But the Crucified One said, "Follow Me." He took him to the
top of a hill and down beneath there was a wide-spreading harvest. He
put a sickle into his hand and He said, "Go and reap." He looked round
him and he replied, "But the fields are so vast, I cannot reap them."
The finger of the Crucified One pointed to a spot where there was one
reaper at work–and that one reaper seemed to be mowing whole acres at
once! He seemed to be a very giant, taking enormous strides. It was
Martin Luther. "Stand by his side," said the Crucified One, "and work."
He did so and
they reaped all day. The sweat stood upon his brow and he rested for a
moment. He was about to lie down when the Crucified One came to him and
said, "For the love of souls, and for My sake, go on."
He snatched up the sickle, again, and on he worked! And at last he grew
weary once more. Then the Crucified One came to him, again, and said,
"For the love of souls, and for My sake, go on." And he went on. But
once he dared to pause and say, "But, Master, the winter is coming and
much of this good wheat will be spoiled." "No," said He, "reap on. It
will all be gathered in before the winter comes–every sheaf. I will
send more laborers into the harvest, only do your best." So now, I
think, the Crucified One takes me to the brow of that hill, and
yourselves with me, and shows us this great London, and says, "Look,
this great field is ripe for the harvest, take your sickles and reap
it." You say, "Lord, I cannot." "No," says He, "but for the love of
souls, and for the sake of the Crucified One, go on and reap."
Ah, Brothers and Sisters, I beseech you, cease not from your labor! Be
more diligent than you have ever been! Think more of Christ and that
will nerve you to duty and remove all sense of weariness! And if this
suffices not, remember, Brothers and Sisters, it may be hard
plowing–it may be true that this is a frozen time, that the winter is
very sharp upon Christ's Church–but let us plow on very hard, for the
harvest will pay for all. Why, I can say that the harvest I have reaped
already pays me for all my labors ten thousand times told! When I have
grasped the hand of some poor woman who has been saved from sin through
my ministry, I have felt it were worthwhile to die to snatch that one
soul from Hell!
Ah, it is a blessed harvest that God gives us here, but what a harvest
will that be when we shall see all the saved souls gathered above–when
we shall see the face of Christ and lay our crowns at His feet! Then
look, labor, hope! An hour with your God will make up for all you may
endure here. Oh, may God the Holy Spirit fill you with energy, give you
fresh strength and may you, all of you, begin to plow straighter,
deeper, longer furrows than you ever made before! Never look back,
never take your hand from the plow, for in due season you shall reap if
you faint not. Keep at it and be not like the sluggard who would not
plow because of the cold–who shall beg in harvest, and have nothing.
EXPOSITION BY C. H. SPURGEON: TJTUS3.
Verse 1. Put them in mind to be subject to principalities andpowers, to
obey magistrates, to be ready to every good work. You see, they were a
rough, wild, rebellious people in Crete, and Christianity came to
civilize, to sober, to sanctify, to save.
2. To speak evil of no man. Oh, how necessary is this exhortation even
to this day!
2. To be no brawler, but gentle, showing all meekness, unto all men.
Meekness and gentleness are two of the ornaments of our faith. I would
that some professed Christians would understand that unholy
contentiousness is not after the mind of Christ. It is not according to
that gracious command, "Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me; for I
am meek and lowly in heart and you shall find rest unto your souls."
No, the Christian must be willing to suffer wrongfully and to bear it
in patience. He is never to be one who renders evil for evil, or
railing for railing.
3. For we ourselves also were sometimes foolish. Well, then, if other
people are foolish, we ought to bear with them.
4. Disobedient, deceived, serving divers lusts and pleasures, living in
malice and envy, hateful, and hating one another. That is what we were
once–and if the Grace of God has made a change in us, we must not
boast, we must not censure others, we must not set up as self-righteous
judges of others. Oh, no, our action must be the very reverse of all
that!
4-7. But after that the kindness and love of God our Savior toward man
appeared, not by works of righteousness which we have done, but
according to His mercy He saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and
renewing of the Holy Spirit; which He shed on us abundantly through
Jesus Christ our Savior; that being justified by His Grace, we should
be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life. This is a very
practical Epistle. See how closely Paul keeps to the Doctrines of
Grace. He is never like Mr. Legality–he never teaches that we are to
be saved by works, but, being saved by the Grace of God alone, and
being made heirs according to the hope of eternal life, we are then,
out of gratitude to God, to abound in everything that is good, holy,
kind and after the mind of Christ.
8, 9. This is a faithful saying, and these things I will that you
affirm constantly, that they which have believed in God might be
careful to maintain good works. These things are good and profitable
unto men. But avoid foolish ques-
tions. There are always plenty of thorns about, and there are certain
professors who spend half their lives in fighting about nothing at all.
There is no more in their contention than the difference between
Tweedledum and Tweedledee, but they will divide a Church over it, they
will go through the world as if they had found out a great secret–it
really is not of any consequence whatever–but having made the
discovery, they judge everybody by their new-found fad and so spread a
spirit that is contrary to the Spirit of Christ.
9, 10. And genealogies, and contentions, and strivings about the law;
for they are unprofitable and vain. A man that is an heretic–one who
really turns aside from the Truth of God and sets up something contrary
to the Word of God–what is to be done with him? "Burn him," says the
church of Rome. "Fine him, put him in prison," say other churches. But
the inspired Apostle says only this–
10. After the first and second admonition reject [him]. Just exclude
him from the church, that is all. Leave him his utmost liberty to go
where he likes, believe what he likes and do what he likes, but, at the
same time, you as Christian people must disown him–that is all you
ought to do–except to pray and labor for his restoration.
11-14. Knowing that he that is such is subverted, andsins, being
condemned ofhimself When I shall send Artemas unto you, or Tychicus, be
diligent to come unto me to Nicopolis for I have determined to winter
there. Bring Zenas the lawyer and Apollos on their journey diligently,
that they need nothing. Andlet ourpeople also learn to maintain good
works for necessary uses, that they be not unfruitful. How the Apostle
comes back to that point! Let all our people, our friends, our
brethren, our kinsfolk, "let our people also learn to maintain good
works for necessary uses, that they be not unfruitful."
15. All that are with me saluteyou. Greet them that love us in the
faith. Grace be with you all. Amen.