Timely Reflections
A sermon
(No. 857)
Delivered on Lord's-day Evening, DECEMBER 27, 1868, by
C.H.SPURGEON,
At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington
"Now is our salvation nearer than when we believed."- Romans 13:11.
BUT what "salvation" is this? The question is important because we very
commonly speak of "salvation" as that state of Divine Grace into which
everyone that believes in Jesus is introduced when he passes from death
unto life, being delivered from the power of darkness and translated
into the kingdom of God's dear Son. This sweet assurance we celebrate
in our hymns of praise–
"The moment a sinner believes And trusts in His crucified God, His
pardon at once he receives, Redemption in full through His blood."
Salvation, so far as the forgiveness of sin, the imputation of
righteousness, and the eternal safety of the soul are concerned, is
given to us the moment that we are brought to trust in Jesus. But the
term, "salvation," here and in some other parts of Scripture signifies
that complete deliverance from sin, that glorious perfection which will
not be attained by us until the day of the appearing of our Lord and
Savior Jesus Christ.
Salvation here signifies entire deliverance from indwelling sin,
perfect sanctification, and, as I take it, includes the resurrection of
the body and the glorification of body and soul with Christ Jesus in
the world to come. Salvation here means what many think it always
implies, namely, eternal Glory. At this hour our perfect salvation is
nearer than when we believed. Observe the date from which the Apostle
begins to reckon. He does not say our salvation is nearer than when we
were christened–that is a ceremony of which the Apostle never
dreamed–a tradition and invention of men which had never crossed his
mind!
He does not say your salvation is nearer than when you were
confirmed–that also was a thing quite unknown to him. He does not
reckon even from our Baptism, as if he were to say, now is your
salvation nearer than when you put on Christ openly in Baptism. But he
strikes at the vital point–he specifies the true indication of
spiritual life, namely, "believe." What could ever come of all that is
before believing?. It is all death! It is not worth reckoning! No
matter how studied the ceremony or how garnished with profession, up to
the moment a man believes he has no spiritual life–he comes not into
the happiness of the living–neither has the Apostle anything to say to
him except that he is dead in trespasses and sins!
The moment of faith is the moment from which he dates his spiritual
career. It is when we look to Jesus hanging upon the Cross, our
Substitute, that life comes to us. As we look we live! We look and are
forgiven! We look and are saved– and from that time forward with our
faces Zionward we start upon the celestial pilgrimage towards that
glorious City whose Builder and Maker is God. Thus it was, then, that
the Apostle measured from one fixed point to another fixed point. If
you have two shifting points you cannot say that now you are nearer
this or that. If the time of our believing was not a fixed and definite
moment, but a thing which may be put here or there, we could not reckon
from that. And if the time of our emancipation from this body and our
complete salvation were unsettled, precarious–a point that moves, a
sort of planetary star–we could not say we are getting any nearer to
it.
But the Apostle takes a fixed point. There is a man saved. He has
believed in Christ. That day he believed in Christ, yes, that very
minute, he may not know which minute, but God knows, that very
second–at that tick of the clock in which he trusted in Christ he
became a new man–old things were passed away and all things became
new. Therefore that is a fixed and definite point in that man's history
from which to date. And there is another point, settled by God in the
Divine decree, never to be removed, neither to be ante-dated nor
post-dated–a moment when those that believe shall be with Christ where
He is and shall be like He and shall behold His Glory forever!
Now, between these two points you and I, if we have believed, are
sailing! And this evening at the close of the year it seemed meet for
me to haul up the log and just to note where we are on the sea that
rolls between these two blessed points and to congratulate my fellow
Believers that now–tonight–we are nearer the eternal port by the
space of many years than when we first slipped our cable, hauled up the
anchor and began to sail towards the haven of everlasting rest. "Now is
our salvation nearer than when we believed."
I have been told–I have not been on the voyage–but I have been told
that in going to Australia it has frequently been the custom to toast
"Friends behind," till they get half-way. And then it changes to,
"Friends ahead." "Here's to the helm, friends behind," and then near to
the port, "Friends ahead." Well, I am going to say something tonight
about things behind, and then we shall congratulate you as we talk of
things ahead. "Now is our salvation nearer than when we believed."
I. THE THINGS THAT ARE BEHIND. I want you to look back a little, all of
you who have started from the point of believing. Recollect–and it
will do you good to recollect it–when you did believe. Oh, that
blessed day! Of all the days we have ever seen, that was, in some
respects, the brightest of all! Not to be compared with the day of our
natural birth, for that was a day of our first weeping. But in the day
of our new birth, we wept tears of sacred joy! We were thrust from
death into life, from condemnation to acceptance, from everlasting
peril into eternal safety–
"Happy day, happy day! When Jesus washed my sins away!"
That was the day, we may say, when we left the first shore–and you all
know those who are going round the world to dwell on the other side,
always look back with great satisfaction at the day when they left.
When the vessel was first tugged out of dock and safely towed down to
the Nore and began to try the deep sea wave, what congratulations there
were of friends–and many tears, no doubt, and waving of handkerchiefs
and hurrahing, as the vessel left the port. Well, now, in our case we
remember how our friends and kinsfolk in Christ rejoiced over us–how
glad they were to hear us tell the tale of saving Grace! They prized us
as a new-born child is prized in the household. No, not only friends
below, but the angels looking down from Heaven rejoiced over us as
repenting sinners! And surely, if it were worth their while to rejoice
when we believed, we need not blush to go back to that period.
It is not very long with some of you–well, be grateful. It is a long
time with some of you. Some of us can, no doubt, count 20 years since
we first knew the Lord! Happy years they have been, too! And happy was
that day when we became first enlisted in His service–when we first
left the shores of earth to try and find the new country, the better
land. Yes, "when we believed." We will dwell upon that time and let our
souls ring the sweet silver bells of gratitude as we bless the Lord
that we were not left to perish in our natural unbelief, but that we
have believed in Christ Jesus.
Since then–now turn to your logs–since then we have had a good number
of storms. I remember that first storm we had in that Bay of
Biscay–for there is generally such a bay as that soon after the
mariner gets off from shore. What a tempest it was. We had not long
rejoiced before all our rejoicing was gone. We had not long found
Christ before we thought that Satan himself had found us! We fancied it
was all a delusion. We were ready to give up our confidence! We had
thought at first that the moment we believed there would be an end of
conflicts, but we discovered that it was then the conflict began! And
perhaps one of the severest storms our vessel has ever had was just at
the first.
You remember it. And we have had many since then, when the waves of
unbelief have made us stand and tremble. You have seen one washed
overboard that you thought very dear. You have yourselves suffered loss
and endured great peril. You were glad to get some of your treasures.
"But there," you said, "let the ingots go." Now the ship rights! Happy
were you if you might, by losing earthly substances and carnal joys,
find peace and safety in Christ. You remember, too, when you had to
sail very slowly in the thick fog and keep the whistle always sounding,
and the look-out you had to keep at the bows for fear you should run
into something and come to mischief.
And you remember when you had almost gone too far and you just caught
sight of the red lights, for if you had but gone a little further your
soul would have been wrecked, cast away forever. But Mercy interposed
at the precise moment, when there was time yet to tack about and save
the vessel and rescued us in the hour of temptation, saved us as by
fire. Well, now, why do I call these things to your remembrance, but to
make you bless the name of your God? You have been
nearly shipwrecked, but you are not wrecked. The storm has been very
furious, but above all the billows Jehovah's power has kept and
preserved you! Your feet had almost gone. Your steps had well near
slipped, but the Divine power interposed in everlasting Grace and to
this day–a wonder unto many, but especially a wonder to yourself–you
are still on the road towards the Celestial City and you are nearer to
it than when you first believed.
But I would not have your recollection of what is behind be altogether
saddened. Remember, Beloved, you have had a great deal of fair weather,
too, since you left the port of believing. Oh, there have been happy
days with us! Blessed days, as the days of Heaven upon earth! We have
sailed along with a favoring breeze. All has been happy within our
spirits, and peace, like a river, has abounded in our souls. Let us
praise the name of God for this! Life is not the dreary thing that some
men say it is. It has its sorrows, for what rose has not its thorns?
Thistles spring up in it, but after all, who would not expect the
thistles to grow here and there in the midst of a harvest field? But we
bear our testimony that we have not had such a bad time of it after
all–
"The men of Grace have found Glory begun below, Celestial fruit on
earthly ground, From faith and hope may grow."
So that behind us, since the hour we first believed, there are the
storms from which we have escaped, but there are also the mercies, the
loving kindnesses which we dare not and will not forget. Behind us,
too, dear Brethren–and this will be a mingled thought–behind us, how
many opportunities of service have we left? When we sailed ourselves,
there were with us many other little ships and some of these–ah, some
of these, have been cast away and shipwrecked before our eyes! In that
night of storm, when we ourselves were hard beset, a companion vessel
that bade fair to make as good a voyage as our own, went to pieces and
was never heard of again. A great professor foundered–his hypocrisy
was discovered and his profession ruined forever.
Another, who seemed to be as ardent for the cause of Christ as we,
passed away, stranded on simple pleasures, broken to pieces on the
rocks of worldliness and lost–and we preserved! Blessed be God, we are
preserved! But we have had many opportunities of seeking out the
distressed, of bringing some of the shipwrecked ones to safety. Did we
always do it? Well, I hope there are many of you who, during past
years, have been the means of bringing some to Christ. I know many of
you have, but I fear some of you have not. Just before this sermon
commenced I saw one who wished to make a profession of her faith in
Christ and she traced her conversion, she said, to the prayers of one
of our members. I dare say you would know him if I were to mention his
name–a humble brother–and I was so thankful to think that God should
bless his prayer in the family to the conversion of one who had
listened to him. May all of us be looking out for others and
endeavoring to bring them to Christ.
But what a sad thing it is if we have to recollect that in our sailing
we have rescued none from the storm. If we are compelled to say, "I saw
the signals go up. I know they were firing minute-guns of distress, but
I passed them by, I never sent aid there–and whether they were saved
or lost I do not know. I had enough to do to look to myself. I never
looked to them." During this year hundreds have gone to their graves.
Some of your own children, perhaps, or neighbors. Are you clear of
their blood? Are you clear of their blood? It would be an awful piece
of brutality if a boat full of poor shipwrecked mariners, far out at
sea, saw a vessel in the offing and yet that vessel would not turn
aside to help them.
And that is exactly the conduct of many professors of Christ. They see
others perishing, but they will not tell them the way of salvation.
They neither pray for them, nor labor for them–but they let them go
down to Hell unwept, unpitied and uncared for. Where are your hearts of
compassion, Professors, that you have done this? Perhaps you have done
it. If so, do not merely regret, but earnestly amend. We ought to
recollect, again, that since we left the fixed point of believing and
began to voyage onward towards the point of Glory, we have had many
opportunities of serving the Lord Jesus and, I may ask, have we always
availed ourselves of them?
I wish we had sung as many hymns for Christ as He deserved. O that I
could have put upon His head the crown which He deserves to have of His
poor servant whom He has delivered out of bondage and made to rejoice
in liberty! O that I had always spoken up for His name! That I had
poured a broadside into His enemies whenever I had an opportunity! We
can sometimes sing–
"Is there a lamb among the flock,
I would disdain to feed?
Is there a foe before whose face,
I fear Your cause to plead?"
And though we sing it and mean it, yet I fear many of the lambs are not
fed, and before many a foe we do not plead the cause of Christ. Golden
opportunities of bringing glory to Christ are suffered to go by.
Alas for this! If we could weep in Heaven we might weep the loss of
such opportunities! But instead of weeping, let us earnestly pray that
for the future we may serve the Master with heart and soul and
strength, so long as we have any being.
II. Thus much about things behind. And now, very briefly, indeed,
ANTICIPATION OF THOSE WHO ARE AHEAD, AND OF THE THINGS THAT ARE AHEAD.
Keeping our lookout, expecting to see other storms and soon to reach a
fairer clime, what is there which we are expecting? I cannot fail to
expect more storms between this and the fair haven. There shall be more
blustering winds and tossing billows. It is not over yet. It was not
all smooth behind–it cannot be all smooth ahead.
But there is this to be said–though there may be many more storms,
they must be fewer in number than they were. There cannot be as many,
for so many have already gone! As we are nearer Home, so the trials are
fewer that we have to bear. You are getting through them, Christian.
Every one, as you pass it, leaves one the less. Be comforted, then, be
comforted! And how few storms must remain for some of you? "I am on the
better side of seventy," said one. "Why," said another, "I thought you
were seventy-seven." "So I am," said he, "and that is the right side of
70–it is the nearest side
Home."
Can you not trust God for the next half-dozen years? You will not have
more than that, perhaps. You cannot expect to have twenty. He has
helped you for 70–will He not help you for another ten? Will He change
at the last? Has he up to now taught you to trust in His name and
brought you so far to put you to shame? Has He finished the house all
but the last course of bricks and will He not complete it in due
course? Surely He will! Be of good courage! There are few storms, after
all, that are ahead, to those that have passed through many already.
The further we are on the road, the less there is of it to bear.
Beloved, there will be fairer winds yet, thank God. We cannot suspect
it will be all storms. But it would be folly to suppose there would be
none! It would be greater folly, still, to suppose it would be all
boisterous weather.
Before we reach the heavenly plains, or walk the golden streets, there
is a land called Beulah, which John Bunyan pictures in his "Pilgrim's
Progress," and surely it is no realm of fancy. In old age God's people
are often brought into a peaceable frame of mind where their
confidences are always bright, their enjoyment of Christ always
great–where they have not those molestations which afflicted them when
they were young–they have come to perfect peace and rest. We can
expect this and we will steer on towards it! There are calm days ahead!
Christ will be with us. Our communion with Him shall be sweet. Do you
know, I look forward in days to come to the oft-recurring refreshment
of our Sabbaths. If we are to be spared, there will always be these
oases in the desert. Though we have, some of us, our hardest day's work
and often wish we could sit in a pew and hear somebody else, yet there
is no day like the Sabbath, after all. Oh, what a blessed help it is to
Heaven! If we had not those windows, the earth would be a blank,
indeed. But with these sacred windows, that which would otherwise be a
hard black wall, shutting out all light, becomes a very palace and we
look through these windows up to the better palace, where the eternal
Sabbath shall be our portion! Well, there are these Sabbaths ahead!
There is the outpouring of the Spirit! There are Covenant blessings to
be participated in and there is the safety which Providential Grace can
bring, all lying ahead of us. Let us, then, be comforted and pass on.
And there will be more opportunities ahead. Now, you young people,
especially, should be looking out. I spoke of occasions of serving God
which we had wasted. Do not let us waste any more, but gird up the
loins of our lives. Let this be our prayer, that we may snatch every
opportunity by the wing–take time by the forelock–and, in the service
of God, contend with might and main for the Truths of God. The wheels
of eternity are sounding behind us–life must be short. To those to
whom it is longest it is but brief. Work on, worker! You have scarcely
time to finish your day's work! Waste not a second! Throw not away
these priceless hours. Speed! Speed! Speed! As with sevenfold wing it
glides forward–swifter than the thunderbolt. Oh, pause not! Trifle
not!
O Christian, if you would take your crowns up to your Lord and great
sheaves from the harvest, "work while it is called today, for the night
comes in which no man can work." "It is high time," says our Apostle,
"to awake out of sleep." Would that you would consider it! Be not as
those who open their eyes in the morning only to close them again, like
the sluggard with the reflection, "I need not bestir myselfjust yet."
But start, Man, from your slumbers as one who
feels that he has slept too long and must now briskly cast off dull
sloth, bestirring himself with eager haste to do his appointed task–to
redeem the time, to reclaim the golden hours! For, consider this, your
calling is of God and the King's business requires haste.
But looking still further ahead, let us tonight, when we remember we
are nearer our salvation than when we believed, begin to think of what
that salvation will be. How near it may be to some of us it were not
possible for us to tell. But 24 hours may take some of us there–yes,
less time than that! What is the distance between earth and Heaven? It
only takes a second of time–
"One gentle sigh, the fetter breaks. We scarcely can say, 'They're
gone!' Before the willing spirit takes Her mansion near the Throne."
Now, what shall we see when we get there? Well, first we shall see
Jesus. And the sight of Him, oh, say no more–think of it! The vision
of the Man of Sorrows! Our Beloved, who gave Himself for us–once to
see Him, once to fall at His feet and speechless there to lie–bursting
with gratitude, which even there shall be inexpressible! Oh, what a
Heaven to be with
Him!
Then, next to Jesus, we shall be with all the bright spirits that have
gone before us. Those that go to Australia begin forgetting father and
mother that they left behind, because they are thinking of the brother
and sister that went before. They will be at the landing place to meet
them. Some of you have dear children that went Home in infancy. Some of
you have a dear wife or a husband and they have been looking for you. I
do not doubt they will know you. It will be one of the joys of Heaven
to reunite these broken ties. I do not think Rowland Hill was at all
foolish when he rode over from Cambridge, a distance of 13 miles, to
see an old woman who was upon her dying bed. He said, "You are older
than I am, but I am getting older and, even now, I sometimes think they
have forgotten me. But in the meantime, as you are going first, take my
love to the four great Johns–John who leaned on Jesus' bosom and John
Bunyan and John Calvin and John Knox. Take my love to them and tell
them poor old Rowly will be coming by-and-by."
I cannot doubt but that the message was delivered. I think there is
such a connection between earth and Heaven that we shall see those who
have gone before. How comfortable it must be to some aged ones when
they think that though they are taken from that part of the family
which remains on earth, they have a larger family circle probably in
Heaven than here! It was so with a poor old man who accosted me the
other day in a country lane and asked me for something. As I gave to
him, I said, "How is it you are so poor?" "Ah," he said, "everybody is
dead that ever cared for me." "But," I said, "surely there is somebody
left?" "No, Sir," he said, "there is nobody. I buried my poor old wife
last year. We had two or three children and they all died. My brother
had five or six and they died years ago. The people that were young in
my time, they are all gone. I do not know anybody now, nobody cares for
me."
So, too, wrote one, who, if I am not mistaken, had been a votary of
fashion in her gay circles–
"The friends of youth, manhood and age, At length are all laid in the
ground. An unit I stand on life's stage, With nothing but vanity round.
I wander bewildered and lost, Without impulse or interest view. And all
hope of my heart is at most To soon bid the desert adieu. But this
derelict state of man's lot That fate to the aged ordains, Bids the
heart turn the thoughts where it ought, Nor seek worldly cure for its
pains. Thus I turn from the past and the lost, Close the view my life's
picture supplies And while penitent tears pay the cost, Blot the
follies of mirth from my eyes."
Well, but what a comfort to such a one if he could but feel that though
there is nobody here, yet there are plenty there among those that are
gone before to greet and love him!
So, let us salute those that are ahead. We cannot yet see the bright
light at the harbor's mouth, but we know we are on the right tack and
that God's Eternal Spirit is driving us on towards the harbor. O let us
still think of them and sing as Wesley did–
"Even now by faith we join our hands With those that went before And
greet the blood-besprinkled bands On the eternal shore."
I shall not delay you, however, with these anticipations. There are
some mournful reflections with which I will close.
The Lord Jesus, whose eyes of fire can read all hearts, knows this
night that there are some of you who are not nearer your salvation than
when you believed, because, first, you never did believe. And,
secondly, that which you are nearer to is not salvation. Alas, Alas,
alas, is it true that you have not believed? What does that mean? It
means, with some of you that you have violated conscience. From your
youth up you knew the beauties of godliness and the brightness of a
holy life, but you have chosen evil in defiance of the inward monitor.
You have elected to be an enemy of God! You have not believed and so
have been a traitor to your own conscience.
And you have done it in the face of a hundred warnings–hundreds, did I
say? No, hundreds of thousands of invitations! Are there not some of
you who seem resolved to go to Hell over a mother's tears and prayers?
You are pressing forward in the wrong way in defiance of the
admonitions of a father who is now in Heaven. A godly education trained
you for the sky but your own choice has doomed you to another fate.
Alas, there are many in this congregation who have done violence to the
Holy Spirit! There are many who have been accused, convicted, startled,
made to pray– and yet tears have been brushed away–they have plunged
into gaiety! They have returned to thoughtlessness! And so the hour of
Divine Grace and the opportunity of mercy, they have flung to the
winds.
If I knew the private history of a good many who have seats in this
tabernacle, it would be a dreadful story of striving against every good
principle, not for their own good, but for their own evil! You have
fought not with devils, but with angels! You have fought with angels
that you might be permitted to damn your own souls! You have contended
with eternal mercy and not for the crown of your victory, but that you
might ruin yourselves forever! If men were half as earnest to be saved
as many seem to be to be lost, it were a blessed change. But, oh, the
struggles of conscience, the murdering of godly thoughts, the putting
of the bowstring about the neck of solemn conviction which has been
committed by some who are here!
You have not believed–not believed! And here it is, the last Sunday
night of 1868! Though three, four, five, six, or 10 years ago you were
promising to mend and look hopeful, here you are just the same, with
this label to be put upon you–not believed, confirmed unbelievers,
enemies to God. Well now, there comes this horrible thought across my
mind and I wish I did not feel compelled to utter it, but I must. Then,
since you are not believing, your eternal destruction is nearer than
ever it was. It must be so! Look at the vessel. The bows were in that
direction. She is sailing that way. Cannot you see the trail she has
left in the ocean? Do you not see everything indicates she is fast set
towards that dreadful rock that shall grind her to pieces?
It is not merely that, the helm seems thus turned, but there is a
current underneath the vessel which seems to be bearing it along
swiftly. Apparently, the life of some of you is towards evil and
towards Hell. Your whole tenor of life seems to bear you that way. Your
inclinations, your companions, your very business seem to have acted
like a gulf stream to bear you on towards ruin! Besides that, the wind
is blowing that way–that wind that blew you into the theater last
night, that blows you into carnal company, into the house of vice, that
is drawing you fast, I say, into fierce temptations, while you grow
more and more reckless of the consequences.
What with the helm set and perpetually nailed fast so that it should
not be moved, a current under the vessel and the wind filling her
sails–great God, how is she speeding on towards her eternal fate! But,
worst of all, there is the engine within throbbing, palpitating,
helping the ship towards her ruin. Every thought, every desire you
have, seems to be leading you away from Christ and onward towards
mischief. See, there are others that have gone down during the past
year! Others have been wrecked–wrecked on those rocks to which you are
determinedly steering your soul. The wind is getting up, the tempest is
howling fiercer than ever! With some of you, the sins you did not dare
to do once have become
common and the things that made you shudder and your blood run cold,
and you said, "Is your servant a dog that he should do this thing?" you
now do them!
But the wind is still getting up, howling and blowing strong upon you
and driving you onward in that evil course which must end in your
eternal destruction. The wind is getting up! If you look ahead you see
the iron-bound coast before you. Iron-bound, I say, not a harbor or a
creek–nothing to run to–not a crack or a crevice up which a man might
climb! And you have no lifeboat along that coast to rescue you and no
boats in your vessel that would prove seaworthy when the vessel
strikes. O that God might preserve you from ever striking upon the
rocks of destruction! Some of you are steering ahead fast for them.
Hard aport! Turn the vessel round, for there is yet a chance! Stop her!
Now she is right in the wind's teeth. Good mariner, hold fast to the
helm and if you can, try to escape. It is too late for some of you! It
is too late for all of you! Into those rocks you must drive and perish
unless there shall come the ever-blessed Steersman of the Galilean Lake
walking across the sea with pierced hands and feet and bid the winds to
hush and turn right round and bid you believe in Him and then bid you
steer to the port of Glory, where all shall be rest and peace! God
grant that such mercy may come to you! Pray for it! Ask for it! Trust
Jesus and you shall have it and to Him shall be the praise, world
without end. Amen.
PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON–Psalm 49.