|
Home - Pastoral and Study Resources - Biblical Articles & Papers
- C. H. Spurgeon - Beauty for Ashes
"Beauty for Ashes" by C. H. Spurgeon
 "To
appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for
ashes the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the
spirit of heaviness, that they might be called trees of
righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be
glorified." - Isaiah 61:3.
When soldiers are on the march, or advancing to the battle, military
men think it wise to let the trumpet sound, that the warriors may be
stimulated by the thrilling music. Many a weary soldier has tramped
on with new vigor when the band has struck up a lively march, or a
soul-moving tune. In the midst of our present Christian service, my
brethren, when I trust all of you have resolved to come to the help
of the Lord—to the help of the Lord against the mighty—we would bid
the silver trumpets of gospel promise sound aloud, that the hosts of
God as they march on in battle array may feel their pulses quickened
and their souls cheered. May times of revival be also seasons of
refreshing. In times of great toil and eminent service much extra
refreshment may with wisdom be dealt out. Harvest men require
substantial meals amid their exhausting toil; and, as I feel that
the Lord of the harvest would not have his laborers treated
niggardly, I have to regale each of you with a portion of bread, a
good piece of flesh, and a flagon of wine.
"Melchisedek met Abraham
with bread and wine—not on some fine holiday when he had been musing
in the plains of Mamre, but when he returned from the slaughter of
the kings. After hard fighting comes sweet refreshment, and any here
who have striven diligently to serve the Master, and have been
pursuing their sacred calling even unto faintness, will be entitled
to come and sit down, and partake of the nourishing bread and wine,
which such a text as this prepares for all the sons of the Father of
the faithful. Elijah ate of bread brought by angelic hands, for a
forty days' journey was before him; such a trial of strength may be
ordained for brethren to whom this word shall come. Precious
promises are for poverty-stricken saints. The strong drink of divine
consolation is for the heavy of heart, as saith Solomon—"Let him
drink and forget his poverty, and remember his misery no more." May
he who uttered the words which are now open before us speak them
with power to the heart of each one here present. They came from the
lips of Jesus; may they drop again into our hearts fresh from his
mouth (that well of comfort undefiled), and fall with all their
ancient life-giving power.
We will read our text again, and then meditate thereon. "To appoint
unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes,
the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of
heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the
planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified."
Our first consideration will be, who gives this word? Secondly, to
whom doth he give it? Thirdly, what saith he in it? And, fourthly,
what will come of it?
I. First then, WHO GIVES THIS WORD? It is a word to mourners in
Zion, meant for their consolation. But who gives it? The answer is
not far to seek. It comes from him who said, "The Spirit of the Lord
God is upon me," "he hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted."
Now, in a very inferior and subordinate sense, Christian ministers
have the Spirit of God resting upon them, and they are sent to bind
up the broken-hearted; but they can only do so in the name of Jesus,
and in strength given from him. This word is not spoken by them, nor
by prophets or apostles either, but by the great Lord and Master of
apostles and prophets, and ministers, even by Jesus Christ himself.
If he declares that he will comfort us, then we may rest assured we
shall be comforted! The stars in his right hand may fail to
penetrate the darkness, but the rising of the Sun of Righteousness
effectually scatters the gloom. If the consolation of Israel himself
comes forth for the uplifting of his downcast people, then their
doubts and fears may well fly apace, since his presence is light and
peace.
But, who is this anointed one who comes to comfort mourners? He is
described in the preface to the text as a preacher. "The Spirit of
the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath appointed me to
preach good tidings unto the meek." Remember what kind of preacher
Jesus was. "Never man spake like this man." He was a son of
consolation indeed. It was said of him, "A bruised reed shall he not
break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench." He was gentleness
itself: his speech did not fall like a hail shower, it dropped like
the rain, and distilled as the dew, as the small rain upon the
tender herb. He came down like the soft vernal shower upon the
new-mown grass, scattering refreshment and revival wherever his
words were heard. The widow at the gates of Nain dried her eyes when
he spake, and Jairus no longer mourned for his child. Magdalene gave
over weeping, and Thomas ceased from doubting, when Jesus showed
himself. Heavy hearts leaped for joy, and dim eyes sparkled with
delight at his bidding. Now, if such be the person who declares he
will comfort the broken-hearted, if he be such a preacher, we may
rest assured he will accomplish his work.
In addition to his being a preacher, he is described as a physician.
"He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted." Some hearts want
more than words. The choicest consolations that can be conveyed in
human speech will not reach their case; the wounds of their hearts
are deep, they are not flesh cuts, but horrible gashes which lay
bare the bone, and threaten ere long to kill unless they be
skilfully closed. It is, therefore, a great joy to know that the
generous friend who, in the text, promises to deal with the
sorrowing, is fully competent to meet the most frightful cases.
Jehovah Rophi is the name of Jesus of Nazareth; he is in his own
person the Lord that healeth us. He is the beloved physician of
men's souls. "By his stripes we are healed." Himself took our
infirmities, and bare our sicknesses, and he is able now with a word
to heal all our diseases, whatever they may be. Joy to you, ye sons
of mourning; congratulation to you, ye daughters of despondency: he
who comes to comfort you can not only preach with his tongue, but he
can bind up with his hand. "He healeth the broken in heart, and
bindeth up their wounds. He telleth the number of the stars; he
calleth them all by their names."
As if this were not enough, our gracious helper is next described as
a liberator. "He hath sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives,
and the opening of the prison to them that are bound." There were
many downcast persons in Israel in the olden times—persons who had
become bankrupt, and, therefore, had lost their estates, and had
even sunk yet further into debt, till they were obliged to sell
their children into slavery, and to become themselves bondsmen.
Their yoke was very heavy, and their trouble was very sore. But the
fiftieth year came round, and never was there heard music so sweet
in all Judea's land, as when the silver trumpet was taken down on
the jubilee morn, and a loud shrill blast was blown in every city,
and hamlet, and village, in all Israel, from Dan even to Beer-sheba.
What meant that clarion sound? It meant this: "Israelite, thou art
free. If thou hast sold thyself, go forth without money for the year
of jubilee has come." Go back, go back, ye who have lost your lands;
seek out the old homestead, and the acres from whence ye have been
driven: they are yours again. Go back, and plough, and sow, and reap
once more, and sit each man under his vine and his fig-tree, for all
your heritages are restored. This made great joy among all the
tribes, but Jesus has come with a similar message. He, too,
publishes a jubilee for bankrupt and enslaved sinners. He breaks the
fetters of sin, and gives believers the freedom of the truth. None
can hold in captivity the souls whom Jesus declares to be the Lord's
free men.
Surely, if the Savior has power, as the text declares, to proclaim
liberty to the captive, and if he can break open prison doors, and
set free those convicted and condemned, he is just the one who can
comfort your soul and mine, though we be mourning in Zion. Let us
rejoice at his coming, and cry Hosanna, blessed is he that cometh in
the name of the Lord. Happy are we that we live in an age when Jesus
breaks the gates of brass and cuts the bars of iron in sunder.
As if this were not all and not enough, one other matter is
mentioned concerning our Lord, and he is pictured as being sent as
the herald of good tidings of all sorts to us the sons of men. Read
the second verse: "To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord." God
has taken upon himself human flesh. The infinite Jehovah came down
from heaven and became an infant, lived among us, and then died for
us. Behold in the person of the incarnate God the sure pledge of
divine benevolence. "He that spared not his own Son, but freely
delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely
give us all things?" Beloved, the very fact that a Savior came to
the world should be a source of hope to us, and when we think what a
Savior he was, how he suffered, how he finished the work that was
given him to do, and what a salvation it is which he has wrought out
for us, we may well feel that the comfort of mourners is work for
which he is well suited, and which he can execute most effectually.
How beautiful upon Olivet and Calvary are the feet of him that
bringeth, in his person and his world "good tidings, that publisheth
peace, that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth
salvation." But I must not linger. I have spoken of you enough to
lead your thoughts to the blessed person who here declares that he
will comfort the mourner. May the Holy Ghost reveal him unto you in
all the power of his arm, the love of his heart, the virtue of his
blood, the prevalence of his plea, the majesty of his exaltation,
and the glory of his character.
II. Secondly, TO WHOM IS THIS WORD SPOKEN? It is spoken to those who
mourn in Zion. They are in Zion. They are the Lord's people, but
they mourn. To mourn is not always a mark of grace. Nature mourns.
Fallen human nature will have to mourn for ever, except grace shall
change it. But the mourning here meant is a mourning in Zion—a
mourning of gracious souls. Let me try and describe what kind of
mourning it is. It assumes various shapes. It begins in most hearts
with lamentation over past sin. I have broken God's just
commandments, I have done evil against my God, I have destroyed my
soul; my heart feels this, and bitterly mourns. It is one thing to
say formally, "I am a miserable sinner;" it is a very different
thing to be one. To say it may be gross hypocrisy, to feel it is a
mark of grace. Oh that every one of us, if we have never felt
mourning for sin may feel it at this hour. May we mourn to think
that we have pierced the Savior, that we have transgressed against a
God so good, and a Redeemer so generous. Those who mourn for the
guilt of past sin, before long, reach a higher point. Mourners are
not suffered long to tarry; grace takes their load of guilt away.
Their transgressions are covered. Do they leave off mourning then?
Oh, no, they mourn in another way. There is a sweet mourning
concerning my past sin which I would never wish to lose. It is
forgiven, every sin of mine is blotted out, and my soul, therefore,
with a sweet bitterness, would mourn over it more and more.
"My sins, my sins, my Savior!
How sad on thee they fall,
Seen through thy gentle patience
I tenfold feel them all.
I know they are forgiven;
But still their pain to me
Is all the grief and anguish
They laid, my Lord, on thee."
This is a kind of mourning which may accompany us even to heaven's
gates, and we might almost regret to have to part with such a friend
even there.
"Lord, let me weep, for nought but sin,
And after none but thee.
And then I would—oh that I might—
A constant weeper be."
True hearts, however, mourn not only for their past transgressions,
but they also sorrow over their present imperfections. If you are
what you should be, dear friend, I am quite certain you see a great
deal in yourself to grieve over. You cannot live as you would live.
Whenever I meet with a person who feels that he is perfect, I
conceive at once that he has not yet attained even a remote
conception of what true perfection must be. The savage of Australia
is satisfied with his weapons of war so long as he has never seen a
rifle or heard of a cannon: to him his hovel is a model of
architecture, for he has never heard of a cathedral or a palace. I
have no doubt that a barn-door fowl would be quite surprised at the
complaint which an eagle might make about its inability to mount as
high as it desires to do. The fowl is perfect—perfect up to the
condition of its barn-door, barley-scratching life, it knows nothing
higher than its roosting place, and so it concludes itself
absolutely perfect and fit for all that is desirable in flight. But
oh, could it know where the thunders dwell, and sail above the
clouds where the callow lightnings wait the bidding of the Lord,
then would the creature feel something of the aspirations and the
griefs which torment the heart of the royal bird. Men know not what
God is, nor the infinity of his perfections, nor the majesty of his
purity, else, when highest would they cry, "Higher, higher, higher,"
and mourn because they have not yet attained, and need still to
mount as on eagle's wings. Brethren, I speak for you all when I say,
there is not a day in which our service satisfies us, not a deed we
have ever performed that contents us. We see our spots, and would
fain wash them out with tears if we could, though we bless God they
are removed by the precious blood of Jesus. Those are among the
blessed who mourn because they cannot live a perfect life as they
desire. To mourn after more holiness is a sign of holiness, to mourn
after greater conformity to the image of Christ proves that we are
already in a measure conformed thereunto; to sigh after more
complete subordination of our entire life to the will of God is a
mourning for which Jesus Christ will bring rich comfort.
The Christian mourner laments, also, because he cannot be more
continually in communion with God. He knows the sweetness of
fellowship with the Father and with the Son. He cannot bear to have
it broken. If but the thinnest cloud pass between him and the sun of
God's love, he is distressed directly, for he is sensitive lest he
should lose the delights of communion. A native of sunny Italy
deplores the absence of heaven's bright blue, when made to dwell in
this land of the fleecy clouds; and he who has dwelt in unclouded
fellowship with the Lord bemoans his hard lot, if even for awhile he
beholds not that face which is as the sun shining in its strength.
Love cannot endure absence, much less, coldness. True grace finds
its life in fellowship, and pines if it be denied it.
The real Christian mourns, again, because he cannot be more useful.
He wishes he were like a pillar of fire and light, so that he might
evermore by day and by night enlighten the ignorant, and inspire the
dull and laggard. He wishes not so much for more talent as for more
grace to make use of the talent which he has. He would fain bring in
a great rental to the owner of the vineyard who has placed him as a
husbandman among the vines. He longs to bring up priceless pearls
from the deep seas of sin, wherewith to adorn the diadem of his Lord
and king. He sighs because thorns and thistles will spring up where
he looked for a hundred-fold harvest: this makes him groan out, "Who
hath believed our report, and to whom is the arm of the Lord
revealed?"
Moreover, like his Lord, he mourns for others. He mourns in Zion
because of the deadness of the Christian church, its divisions, its
errors, its carelessness towards the souls of sinners. He cries with
Jeremiah, "How is the gold become dim! How is the much fine gold
changed!" But, he mourns most of all for the unconverted. He sees
their state of alienation from God, and knowing the danger of it,
his heart shrinks within him, as with prophetic glance he sees what
their end will be: when "there shall be wailing and gnashing of
teeth." His heart breaks for the sins and sorrows of others, and,
like his Savior, he could weep over the cities that reject divine
love; he could say like Moses that he was almost willing to have his
name blotted out of the Book of Life if others might be saved: he
feels such sorrow and heaviness of heart for his kinsmen according
to the flesh who are strangers to Christ, that he has no rest in his
death concerning them. Dear brethren, he that is quickened by the
new life obtains an enlarged heritage of mourning; but, let it not
be forgotten, he wins tenfold more joy as well; and, meanwhile, such
weeping is in itself sweet—tears not too briny, and griefs not too
bitter; such griefs we would wish to feel as long as we live,
especially if the Lord Jesus alternates them with the fulfilling of
that most excellent promise, to which I now direct you.
III. What is that, then, in the third place, WHICH IS SPOKEN in the
text to those that mourn? I would draw particular attention to the
words here, "To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto
them beauty for ashes." Come, mourning souls, who mourn in the way
described, come ye gladly hither: there is comfort appointed for
you, and there is also comfort given to you. It is the prerogative
of King Jesus both to appoint and to give. How cheering is the
thought that as our griefs are appointed, so also are our
consolations. God has allotted a portion to every one of his
mourners, even as Joseph allotted a mess to each of his brethren at
the feast. You shall have your due share at the table of grace, and
if you are a little one, and have double sorrows, you shall have a
double portion of comfort. "To appoint unto them." This is a word
full of strong consolation; for if God appoints me a portion, who
can deprive me of it? If he appoints my comfort, who dare stand in
the way? If he appoints it, it is mine by right. But then, to make
the appointment secure, he adds the word "To give." The Holy One of
Israel in the midst of Zion gives as well as appoints. The rich
comforts of the gospel are conferred by the Holy Spirit, at the
command of Jesus Christ, upon every true mourner in the time when he
needs them; they are given to each spiritual mourner in the time
when he would faint for lack of them. He can effectually give the
comfort appointed for each particular case. All I can do is to speak
of the comfort for God's mourners. I can neither allot it, nor yet
distribute it; but our Lord can do both. My prayer is that he may do
so at this moment; that every holy mourner may have a time of sweet
rejoicing while siting at the Master's feet in a waiting posture.
Did you never feel, while cast down, on a sudden lifted up, when
some precious promise has come home to your soul? This is the happy
experience of all the saints.
"Sometimes a light surprises
The Christian while he sings:
It is the Lord who rises
With healing in his wings.
When comforts are declining,
He grants the soul again,
A season of clear shining
To cheer it, after rain."
Our ever gracious and almighty Lord knows how to comfort his
children, and be assured he will not leave them comfortless. He who
bids his ministers again and again attend to this duty, and says,
"Comfort ye, comfort ye my people," will not himself neglect to give
them consolation. If you are very heavy, there is the more room for
the display of his grace in you, by making you very joyful in his
ways. Do not despair; do not say, "I have fallen too low, my harp
has been so long upon the willows that it has forgotten Zion's
joyful tunes." Oh, no, you shall lay your fingers amongst the old
accustomed strings, and the art of making melody shall come back to
you, and your heart shall once more be glad. He appoints and he
gives—the two words put together afford double hope to us—he
appoints and he gives comfort to his mourners.
Observe, in the text, the change Christ promises to work for his
mourners. First, here is beauty given for ashes. In the Hebrew there
is a ring in the words which cannot be conveyed in the English. The
ashes that men put upon their head in the East in the time of sorrow
made a grim tiara for the brow of the mourner; the Lord promises to
put all these ashes away, and to substitute for them a glorious head
dress—a diadem of beauty. Or, if we run away from the word, and take
the inner sense, we may look at it thus:—mourning makes the face wan
and emaciated, and so takes away the beauty; but Jesus promises that
he will so come and reveal joy to the sorrowing soul, that the face
shall fill up again: the eyes that were dull and cloudy shall
sparkle again, and the countenance, yea, and the whole person shall
be once more radiant with the beauty which sorrow had so grievously
marred. I thank God I have sometimes seen this change take place in
precious saints who have been cast down in soul. There has even
seemed to be a visible beauty put upon them when they have found
peace in Jesus Christ, and this beauty is far more lovely and
striking, because it is evidently a beauty of the mind, a spiritual
lustre, far superior to the surface comeliness of the flesh. When
the Lord shines full upon his servants' faces, he makes them fair as
the moon, when at her full she reflects the light of the sun. A
gracious and unchanging God sheds on his people a gracious and
unfading loveliness. O mourning soul, thou hast made thine eyes red
with weeping, and thy cheeks are marred with furrows, down which the
scalding tears have burned their way; but the Lord that healeth
thee, the Lord Almighty who wipeth all tears from human eyes, shall
visit thee yet; and, if thou now believes "in Jesus, he shall visit
thee now, and chase these cloudy griefs away, and thy face shall be
bright and clear again, fair as the morning, and sparkling as the
dew. Thou shalt rejoice in the God of thy salvation, even in God,
thy exceeding joy. Is not this a dainty promise for mourning souls?
Then, it is added, "He will give the oil of joy for mourning." Here
we have first beauty, and then unction. The Orientals used rich
perfumed oils on their persons—used them largely and lavishly in
times of great joy. Now, the Holy Spirit comes upon those who
believe in Jesus, and gives them an anointing of perfume, most
precious, more sweet and costly than the herd of Araby. An unction,
such as royalty has never received, sheds its costly moisture over
all the redeemed when the Spirit of the Lord rests upon them. "We
have an unction from the Holy One," saith the apostle. "Thou
anointest my head with oil, my cup runneth over." Oh, how favored
are those who have the Spirit of God upon them! You remember that
the oil which was poured on Aaron's head went down to the skirts of
his garment, so that the same oil was on his skirts that had been on
his head. It is the same Spirit that rests on the believer as that
which rests on Jesus Christ, and he that is joined unto Christ is
one Spirit. What favor is here! instead of mourning, the Christian
shall receive the Holy Spirit, the Comforter who shall take of the
things of Christ, and reveal them unto him, and make him not merely
glad, but honored and esteemed.
Then, it is added, to give still greater fullness to the cheering
promise, that the Lord will give "the garment of praise for the
spirit of heaviness." The man is first made beautiful, next he has
the anointing, then afterwards he is arrayed in robes of splendor.
What garments these are! Surely Solomon in all his glory wore not
such right royal apparel. "The garment of praise." what a dress is
this! Speak of wrought gold, or fine linen, or needlework of divers
colors, or taffeta, or damasks, or gorgeous silks most rich and rare
which come from far off lands—where is anything compared with "the
garment of praise?" When a man wraps himself about, as it were, with
psalmody, and lives for ever a chorister, singing not with equal
voice, but with the same earnest heart as they do who day and night
keep up the never ending hymn before the throne of the infinite! As,
what a life is his, what a man is he! O mourner, this is to be your
portion; take it now; Jesus Christ will cover you, even at this
hour, with the garment of praise; so grateful shall you be for sins
forgiven, for infirmity overcome, for watchfulness bestowed, for the
church revived, for sinners saved, that you shall undergo the
greatest conceivable change, and the sordid garments of your woe
shall be put aside for the brilliant array of delight. It shall not
be the spirit of praise for the spirit of heaviness, though that
were a fair exchange, but as your heaviness you tried to keep to
yourself, so your praise you shall not keep to yourself, it shall be
a garment to you, external and visible, as well as inward and
profound. Wherever you are it shall be displayed to others, and they
shall see and take knowledge of you that God has done great things
for you whereof you are glad. I wish I had power to speak fitly on
such a theme as this; but, surely, it needs him upon whom the Spirit
rested without measure to proclaim this joyful promise to the
mourners in Zion.
We must close, by noticing what will be the result of this
appointment, and text concludes, by saying, "That they might be
called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he
might be glorified." We learn, here, that those mourning souls who
are cast down, and have put ashes on their heads, shall, when Jesus
Christ in infinite mercy comes to them, be made like trees—like
"oaks;" the original is, like "oaks of righteousness," that is, they
shall become strong, firmly rooted, covered with verdure; they shall
be like a well-watered tree for pleasantness and delight. Thou
sayest, "I am a dry tree, a sere branch, I am a cast off, fruitless
bough; Oh that I were visited of God and saved! I mourn because I
cannot be what I would." Mourner, thou shalt be all thou wouldst be,
and much more if Jesus visits thee. Breathe the prayer to him now;
look to him, trust him. He can change thee from a withered tree that
seems twice dead into a tree standing by the rivers of water, whose
leaf is unwithering, and whose fruit ripens in its season. Only have
confidence in an anointed Savior, rely upon him who came not here to
destroy but to bless, and thou shalt yet through faith become a tree
of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he may be
glorified.
But, the very pith of the text lies in a little word to which you
must look. "Ye shall be called trees of righteousness." Now, there
are many mourning saints who are trees of righteousness, but nobody
calls them so, they are so desponding that they give a doubtful idea
to others. Observers ask, "Is this a Christian?" And those who watch
and observe them are not at all struck with their Christian
character. Indeed, I may be speaking to some here who are true
believers in Jesus, but they are all their lifetime subject to
bondage; they hardly know themselves whether they are saved, and,
therefore, they cannot expect that others should be very much
impressed by their godly character and fruitful conversation. But, O
mourners! if Jesus visits you, and gives you the oil of joy, men
shall call you "trees of righteousness," they shall see grace in
you, they shall not be able to help owning it, it shall be so
distinct in the happiness of your life, that they shall be compelled
to see it. I know some Christian people who, wherever they go, are
attractive advertisements of the gospel. Nobody could be with them
for a half an hour without saying, "Whence do they gain this calm,
this peace, this tranquility, this holy delight and joy?" Many have
been attracted to the cross of Christ by the holy pleasantness and
cheerful conversation of those whom Christ has visited with the
abundance of his love. I wish we were all such. I would not
discourage a mourner; no, but encourage him to seek after the
garments of praise; nevertheless, I must say that it is a very
wretched thing for so many professors to go about the world
grumbling at what they have and at what they have not, murmuring at
the dispensations of providence, and at the labors of their
brethren. They are more like wild crab-trees than the Lords
fruit-trees. Well may people say, "If these are Christians, God save
us from such Christianity." But, when a man is contented—more than
that, when he is happy under all circumstances, when "his spirit
doth rejoice in God his Savior" in deep distress, when he can sing
in the fires of affliction, when he can rejoice on the bed of
sickness, when his shout of triumph grows louder as his conflict
waxes more and more severe, and when he can utter the sweetest song
of victory in his departing moments, then all who see such people
call them trees of righteousness, they confess that they are the
people of God.
Note, still, the result of all this goes further, "They shall he
called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord," that is to
say, where there is joy imparted, and unction given from the Holy
Spirit, instead of despondency, men will say, "It is God's work, it
is a tree that God has planted, it could not grow like that if
anybody else had planted it; this man is a man of God's making, his
joy is a joy of God's giving." I feel sure that in the case of some
of us we were under such sadness of heart before conversion, through
a sense of sin, that when we did find peace, everybody noticed the
change there was in us, and they said one to another, "Who has made
this man so happy, for he was just now most heady and depressed?"
And, when we told them where we lost our burden, they said, "Ah,
there is something, in religion after all." "Then said they among
the heathen the Lord hath done great things for them." Remember poor
Christian in Pilgrim's Progress. Mark what heavy sighs he heaved,
what tears fell from his eyes, what a wretched man he was when he
wrung his hands, and said, "The city wherein I dwell is to be burned
up with fire from heaven, and I shall be consumed in it, and,
besides, I am myself undone by reason of a burden that lieth hard
upon me. Oh that I could get rid of it!" Do you remember John
Bunyan's description of how he got rid of the burden? He stood at
the foot of the cross, and there was a sepulcher hard by, and as he
stood and looked, and saw one hanging on the tree, suddenly the
bands that bound his burden cracked, and the load rolled right away
into the sepulcher, and when he looked for it, it could not be
found. And what did he do? Why, he gave three great leaps for joy,
and sang,
"Bless'd cross! bless'd sepulcher! bless'd rather
be the man that there was put to shame for me."
If those who knew the pilgrim in his wretchedness had met him on the
other side of that never-to-be-forgotten sepulcher, they would have
said, "Are you the same man?" If Christiana had met him that day,
she would have said, "My husband, are you the same? What a change
has come over you;" and, when she and the children marked the
father's cheerful conversation, they could have been compelled to
say, "It is the Lord's doing, and it is wondrous in our eyes." Oh
live such a happy life that you may compel the most wicked man to
ask where you learned the art of living. Let the stream of your life
be so clear, so limpid, so cool, so sparkling, so like the river of
the water of life above, that men may say, "Whence came this crystal
rivulet? We will trace it to its source," and so may they be led to
the foot of that dear cross where all your hopes began.
Another word remains, and when we have considered it, we will
conclude. That other word is this, "The planting of the Lord, that
he might be glorified." That is the end of it all, that is the great
result we drive at, and that is the object even of God himself,
"that he might be glorified." For when men see the cheerful
Christian, and perceive that this is God's work, then they own the
power of God; not always, perhaps, with their hearts as they should,
but still they are obliged to confess "this is the finger of God."
Meanwhile, the saints, comforted by your example, praise and bless
God, and all the church lifts up a song to the Most High. Come, my
brethren and sisters, are any of you down; are you almost beneath
the enemy's foot? Here is a word for you, "Rejoice not over me, O
mine enemy, though I fall yet shall I rise again." Are any of you in
deep trouble—very deep trouble? Another word then for you; "When
thou passeth through the waters, I will be with thee, and through
the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through
the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle
upon thee." Are you pressed with labors and afflictions? "As thy
days so shall thy strength be," "All things work together for good
to them that love God, to them that are the called according to his
purpose." Are you persecuted? Here is a note of encouragement for
you: "Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you,
and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.
Rejoice, and be exceeding glad; for great is your reward in heaven:
for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you." Whatever
your circumstances are, "Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say
rejoice." Think what Jesus has given you, your sins are pardoned for
his name sake, your heaven is made secure to you, and all that is
wanted to bring you there; you have grace in your hearts, and glory
awaits you; you have already grace within you, and greater grace
shall be granted you; you are renewed by the Spirit of Christ in
your inner man the good work is begun, and God will never leave it
till he has finished it; your names are in his book, nay, graven on
the palms of his hands; his love never changes, his power never
diminishes, his grace never fails, his truth is firm as the hills,
and his faithfulness is like the great mountains. Lean on the love
of his heart, on the might of his arm, on the merit of his blood, on
the power of his plea, and the indwelling of his Spirit. Take such
promises as these for your consolation, "Strengthen ye the weak
hands, and confirm the feeble knees. Say to them that are of a
fearful heart, be strong, fear not." "Fear not, thou worm Jacob, and
ye men of Israel; I will help thee, saith the Lord, and thy
Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel.'' "For a small moment have I
forsaken thee; but with great mercies will I gather thee. In a
little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment; but with
everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy
Redeemer. For this is as the waters of Noah unto me: for as I have
sworn that the waters of Noah should no more go over the earth; so
have I sworn that I would not be wroth with thee, nor rebuke thee.
For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my
kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of
my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee." "My
grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made perfect in
weakness.'' "He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no
might he increaseth strength." "The eternal God is thy refuge, and
underneath are the everlasting arms: and he shall thrust out the
enemy from before thee; and shall say, destroy them." "I am God, I
fail not, therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed." One might
continue for ever quoting these precious passages, but may the Lord
apply one or other of them to every mourner's soul; and, especially
if there be a mourning sinner here, may he get a grip of that choice
word, "Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out;" or, that
other grand sentence, "All manner of sin and blasphemy shall be
forgiven unto men;" or, that other, "The blood of Jesus Christ, his
Son, cleanseth us from all sin:" or, that equally encouraging word,
"Come now, and let us reason together; though your sins be as
scarlet they shall be as wool, though they be red like crimson they
shall be as snow." The Lord bring us all into comfort and joy by the
way of the cross.
Peradventure, I speak to some for whom the promises of God have no
charm; let me, then, remind them that his threatenings are as sure
as his promises. He can bless, but he can also curse. Be appoints
mourning for those who laugh now with sinful merriment; he will give
to his enemies vengeance for all their rebellions. He has himself
said, "And it shall come to pass, that instead of sweet smell there
shall be stink; and instead of a girdle a rent; and instead of well
set hair baldness; and instead of a stomacher a girding of
sackcloth; and burning instead of beauty." Beware, then, ye that
forget God, lest he overthrow you in his hot displeasure. Seek ye
the Savior now, lest the acceptable year of the Lord be closed with
a long winter of utter despair.
"Ye who spurn his righteous sway,
Yet, oh yet, he spares your breath;
Yet his hand, averse to slay,
Balances the bolt of death.
Ere that dreadful bolt descends,
Haste before his feet to fall,
Kiss the scepter he extends,
And adore him, 'Lord of all.'"C. H. Spurgeon
Return to Biblical Articles & Papers |
