The text mentions “now”, and then passes on to the future, and speaks of “yet.” It does, however, speak of “now”; and, after all, despite our trials, there is much to make us happy in our present condition. “Beloved, now are we the sons of God.” Our manifold temptations and infirmities cannot make us lose the blessings that come to us through our adoption into the family of God. “Happy art thou, O Israel: who is like unto thee, O people saved by the Lord?” To-day, even to-day, we are the blessed of the Lord, and we find in godliness the blessing of” the life that now is.”
Yet, beloved, for all that, we are still forced to cry,-
“Alas for us if thou wert all,
And nought beyond, O earth!”
If this were all our life, it would have been better for us not to have lived. Woe unto us if we had to live here always! Young says,-
“Were there no death, e’en fools might wish to die;”-
and, certainly, wise men would do so; for, brethren, this is a life of distractions, cares, anxieties, disappointments, and, what is worse, it is a life of sins, and sorrows, and bitter repentances for wrong-doing. This life is to us a traveller’s life, with all the inconveniences that we meet with in travelling. We are here to-day, and we are gone to-morrow. Sometimes the heat consumes us, and at other times the cold bites us. We are like men at sea; we have not yet cast our anchor, nor furled our sails, nor reached the port whither we are bound; and the sea on which we are sailing is rough, and tempest-tossed, and beset with rocks, and shoals, and quicksands. Our soul is often half a wreck, and longs for the desired haven, where “the wicked cease from troubling,” and “the weary be at rest.” Ours is a soldier’s life; we have to be constantly fighting, or else continually upon our guard. Think not, thou who hast just buckled on thy harness, that thou hast won the victory; for the good soldiers of Jesus Christ must fight from morn till eve, from youth’s gay morning till the eve of grey old age.
I would not paint life in sadder colours than it needs, but I dare not shut my eyes to the fact that this is a sad world, and that our path is one of sorrow, for it is “through much tribulation” that we “enter into the kingdom of God.”
“The path of sorrow, and that path alone,
Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown.”
It is to that other and better land that I would, for a little while, bear away your thoughts. We shall borrow the wings of our text; and, like the eagle, soar towards heaven.
We will begin with this sentence: “It doth not yet appear what we shall be.”
What we are to be, we can scarcely guess. Indeed, we cannot guess at all merely by the use of our senses. “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him. But God hath revealed them unto us by his Spirit;” but only to our spirit. Flesh and blood, as they are, cannot inherit the kingdom of God, and cannot even guess what that kingdom is like. This is not the place where the Christian is to be seen. This is the place of his veiling; heaven is the place of his manifestation. This is the place of his night; yonder is the place of his day. Our portion is on the other side of the river: our days of feasting are not yet.
Some of the reasons why “it doth not yet appear what we shall be” may be as follows. First, our Master was, to a great extent, concealed and hidden, and we must expect to be as he was. Is it not written, in this very Epistle, “As he is, so are we in this world”? Jesus said to his followers when he was here upon earth, “The disciple is not above his master, nor the servant above his lord. It is enough for the disciple that he be as his master, and the servant as his lord.” My brethren, see that man, wearing a coat “without seam, woven from the top throughout;”-the carpenter’s son, the heir of poverty, the companion of the humblest classes of mankind. Can you see in him God over all, blessed for ever? If you can, you are not looking with the eyes of your flesh, I am sure; for, in that manner, you cannot detect the glory of the Lord Jesus Christ beneath so humble a garb. The veil which the Saviour cast about himself was not so thick but that some rays of his glory burst through when he trod the waves, and rebuked the winds, and raised the dead; but, still, it was sufficiently dense, for he cried, “The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head.” You will see that Christ was concealed as you recollect that, although, as Dr. Watts says,-
“All riches are his native right,”-
yet, when he had to pay the temple tax, he had to work a miracle so that Peter might be able to catch the fish which had the exact amount required in its mouth. He was so poor that he had to live upon the charity of his followers. Would you have believed that he was the Lord of all creation if you had seen him up on yonder lonely mountain’s side without a bed to rest upon, or sitting wearily upon Jacob’s well at Sychar, and asking a sinful woman to give him a little water to drink? The Saviour was, indeed, masked and hidden so that the vulgar eye could not detect his glory. Only such men eagle-eyed as John were able to say, “We beheld his glory, the glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.” Our Lord’s wisdom, and grace, and power, and all his other illustrious attributes were concealed beneath the veil of our inferior clay. Dr. Watts was right, as I reminded you just now, when he wrote,-
“Worthy is he that once was slain,
The Prince of Peace that groan’d and died;
Worthy to rise, and live, and reign
At his almighty Father’s side.
“Power and dominion are his due
Who stood condemned at Pilate’s bar;
Wisdom belongs to Jesus too,
Though he was charged with madness here.
“All riches are his native right,
Yet he sustained amazing loss;
To him ascribe eternal might,
Who left his weakness on the cross.”
So fully did he veil his glory that some even ventured to call him Beelzebub, and to say that he was a gluttonous man and a wine-bibber!
Now, Christian, as you think of all this, do you wonder if worldlings do not know you, and only speak of you to slander you? Do you wonder if your integrity is questioned, and your most manifest virtue is misrepresented, and if the grace which really is within you is cavilled at and despired? How should the world knew you when the Saviour himself was not discovered? As the bright gleams of his divine glory were almost wholly concealed, surely the weaker gleams of your earthly and human glory must be altogether hidden. That, perhaps, is the first reason why “it doth not yet appear what we shall be.”
I think I may also remark, brethren, that we are not yet fit to let it appear what we shall be. The son in the house, “says one,” is treated as if he were a servant, and even worse than if he were a servant. A servant is not chastised; he may do many wrong things, and yet escape without a stripe; yet it is not so with the son. Why does not his father give him the honour and dignity which belong to his sonship?” Simply because he is at present only a child, and he must be treated as a child, for a time, in order that he may be fitted to adorn his sonship. It would spoil him to receive at once all that is to be his when he enters upon his inheritance. He is the heir to all his father’s estates, yet he has to be thankful to his father for even a penny, and he receives his pittance week by week, as though he were a poor pensioner upon his father’s bounty or a beggar at his door. Why does not the father give this heir to large estates a thousand pounds? Why does he not entrust him with a great store of wealth? Because he is in his nonage; and if he were trusted with a large sum of money, at so early an age, he might grow profligate, and so be unfitted to use his wealth aright if he should reach riper years.
Brethren, you and I, if we are believers in the Lord Jesus Christ, are kings;-not only sons of God, but kings who are to reign with him for ever. Then, why are we not treated like kings? You know that, in some earthly royal families, it is thought best for the prince, the heir-apparent to the throne, that he should be a soldier or a sailor, and serve his country in that capacity, so that, when he comes to the throne, he may understand how to wield his sceptre for the good of all classes of his subjects. So, Christian, is it with you. You are so childish, at present; you have so lately begun to learn the nature of divine things; you are so uninstructed; you know but in part, and you know that part so badly, that it would not be fitting that your greatness should be revealed to you at present. You must be held back for a while till you have been better trained in the Holy Spirit’s school, and then it shall appear what you shall be.
A third reason why it doth not yet appear what we shall be is, I think, because this is not the world in which the Christian is to appear in his glory; for, if he did, his glory would be lost in this world. The multitudes climbed to the tops of the trees, or the roofs of the houses, whence they might see Cæsar or Pompey returning with the spoils of war, and the multitudes still clap their hands when a warrior has overcome his country’s enemies, and so become a great man. But the world cares little or nothing about self-denial, about Christian love, about consecration and devotion to Christ and his cause; yet these things are the glory of a Christian. That moral excellence, that spiritual worth which flashes from the eyes of the holy angels and of the saints in glory, is almost unappreciated here. Your Master had this glory, though it was usually veiled while he was here below; yet the people cried out, “Away with him, away with him, crucify him;” and if you had here, to its full extent, the glory which will be revealed in you in heaven, people would say the same concerning you. This is not the world in which you are to display your full honours. When a king is journeying through a foreign country, he does not wear his crown, nor the rest of his regalia; he often travels incognito; and even when he reaches his own country, he does not put on his royal robes for fools to admire at every village wake and fair. He is not a puppet-king, strutting upon the stage to show himself to the common people; but he reserves his grandeur for great public occasions and grand court ceremonies. In this poor sinful world, you Christians would be out of place if you could be what you shall yet be. You also must go, incognito, through this world to a large extent; but, by-and-by, you shall take off the travel-worn garments that you have worn during your earthly pilgrimage, and put on your beautiful array, and be manifested to the whole universe as a son or a daughter of “the King eternal, immortal, invisible.”
And, to close this part of the subject, “It doth not yet appear what we shall be,” because this is not the time for the display of the Christian’s glory. If I may use such an expression, time is not the time for the manifestation of a Christian’s glory. Eternity is to be the period for the Christian’s full development, and for the sinless display of his God-given glory. Here, he must expect to be unknown; it is in the hereafter that he is to be discovered as a son of the great King. At present, it is with us as it is with the world during the winter. If you had not seen the miracle wrought again and again, you would not guess, when you look upon those black beds in the garden, or when you walk over that snowy and frosty covering, crisp and hard beneath your feet, that the earth will yet be sown with all the colours of the rainbow, and that it will be gemmed with flowers of unspeakable beauty. No, the winter is not the time when the beauty of the earth is to be best seen; and, Christian, you also must pass through your winter season. Ay, but let that wintry weather once be over, let the bleak December winds howl into your ears, let the cold and cheerless January come and go, let “February fill-dyke” also pass; and, behold, the springtime cometh. I might almost say that grey hairs come upon your head, like the snowdrops appear upon the earth, as the harbingers of spring and of summer, and your soul shall yet blossom “with joy unspeakable and full of glory,” and all the graces and excellences of the Christian shall be revealed in you. It is winter with you now, but the summer cometh.
If you stand, as many of you have often done, at the seaside, you have noticed that, at certain hours of the day, there is a long expanse of mud, or of dry sand, and it may not seem to one who sees it for the first time as though the sea had ever rolled over it, or that it ever will. Ah, but “it doth not yet appear” what it will be. It is ebb-tide now; but wait till the flood comes, and then you will see the whole of that black mire or that yellow sand glistening in the sunshine. So, the flood of glory is rising, Christian; can you not see the breakers in the distance, the white crests of the incoming waves? God’s great sea of eternity draws nearer and nearer; can you not hear the booming of that mighty flood? Soon shall your ransomed spirit float and bathe in that sea of glory, where not a single wave shall cause you a moment’s grief or pain. This is not the time, Christian, in which you are to be fully revealed. You are, to-day, like that ugly shrivelled seed; there is no beauty in it that you should desire it. Ay, but wait a little while; and when the sweetly-perfumed flower shall shed its fragrance on the air, and make the gazer pause to admire the matchless colours with which God has been pleased to paint it, then shall its full glory be known and seen. At present, you are in your seed stage, and your sowing time is coming. Tremble not that it is so. There will be a time for your poor flesh to sleep in the silent grave; but, at the voice of the archangel, and the blast of the trumpet of the resurrection, you shall arise. Just as the flower rises in spring, the dead body, which was put into the tomb, shall rise incorruptible, in the image of the Saviour.
So, you see, “it doth not yet appear what we shall be,” because the Lord Jesus Christ was not fully revealed here, because we are not fit to appear in glory, because we are not here in the midst of the men and women who should see us in our glory, and because it is not yet the right time for us thus to appear. “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven;” but this is not the time for the full manifestation of Christians; and, therefore, “it doth not yet appear what we shall be; but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.”
Having spent so much time over the previous clause, we will merely hint at the teaching of the next words of the text: “But we know that, when he shall appear.”
So, then, it is quite certain that Christ will appear. John does not stop to prove it. He speaks of it as though it were perfectly understood that Christ would again appear, and he mentions what is to be the nature of that appearing.
Christ will appear in person. This is what the two angels declared to the disciples after his ascension, “This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven;” that is, as the incarnate God, he will come back from heaven.
When he comes, he will appear full of happiness. There will be no more sorrow to wrinkle his brow, no more furrows to be ploughed on his back, no fresh wounds to be made in his hands or his feet, no more offering of a sacrifice for sin; but he will come to rejoice with his people for ever.
Further, when he comes, he will appear in his glory;-not as the man of Nazareth, to be despised, and spit upon, but as “The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.” If any of you are tempted to ask, “When will he come?” I give you his own assurance, “Surely I come quickly;” so go your way, and pray, as John did, “Even so, come, Lord Jesus;” yet do not forget Paul’s inspired sentences, “But of the times and the seasons, brethren, ye have no need that I write unto you. For yourselves know perfectly that the day of the Lord so cometh as a thief in the night. For when they shall say, Peace and safety; then sudden destruction cometh upon them, as travail upon a woman with child; and they shall not escape.” Christ is coming, beloved, literally coming,-not figuratively, and by his Spirit, but literally, actually, really.
“Lo! he comes with clouds descending
Once for favour’d sinners slain.”
He is owning in glory, to dwell in the midst of his saints for ever. This is our blessed hope, “the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works.”
Now, passing on, “We know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.”
There are other passages, in his Word, where we are distinctly told that his manifestation will be coincident with our manifestation. Here, we are told that, “when he shall appear, we shall be like him;” and the reason given for this is, “for we shall see him as he is.”
Let us, while pondering the text, then, meditate upon this great truth: “We shall be like him.” This afternoon, meditating upon this glorious assurance that I shall be like Christ,-and I fully believe that I shall be like him,-it did seem to me as if it were almost too good to be true.
Yet it is true that we are to be like Christ, first, as to our body. Here, we are like the first Adam; of the earth, earthy. But we shall, one day, have a body like that of the second Adam, a heavenly body. Like the first Adam, we are mortal now; like the second Adam, we shall be immortal by-and-by. Christ’s body is not now subject to any pains, or to any decay or disease; neither shall our body be. It is quite true that “flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God;” yet it will be this very body of ours that will inherit the kingdom of God, only that which is corruptible in it, that which is mere flesh and blood, will then have been removed. As the apostle Paul writes to the Corinthians, in that wonderful chapter about the resurrection, “It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body.” It is “a spiritual body” which the Lord Jesus Christ has to-day. I cannot imagine how glorious the Saviour is in heaven; but I always think of him, even when he was upon this earth, as being far fairer than any artist ever depicted him. I have gazed a long while upon many paintings of Christ, both in England and abroad; but I have never yet seen one which appeared to me to be equal even to my ideal of the Saviour. I have looked, and I have said, “Oh, no! he was far fairer than that; there must have been more beauty in his face than even that great master has pourtrayed.” Well, brethren, if that is true concerning him as he was when among the sons of men, how true it must be concerning him as he is now! He is fairer than all the fair spirits that surround the heavenly throne. He is “the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys.” Amongst the shining seraphim and cherubim, none can be compared with him; and, Christian, you are to be like him. Whatever are the characteristics of the Saviour’s glorified body, they are to be the characteristics of your body also. You are to have an immortal body, a spiritual body, a body incapable of pain, and suffering, and decay, a body which shall be suited to your emancipated spirit, a body having a wider range than this limited earthly sphere, having greater powers of locomotion, perhaps flying, swiftly as light, from world to world, or possibly having the power even to outrun the lightning’s flash. I do not know how wondrous Christ’s glorified body is; but I do “know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him (even in body); for we shall see him as he is.”
But, far more important than that, we shall also be like Christ in soul. Have the eyes of your spiritual understanding or sanctified imagination ever looked upon Christ’s spotless, perfectly-developed soul; that equably-adjusted spirit, in which no one power or passion was too prominent or predominant; but in which his whole being was beautifully moulded and rounded, according to the perfect pattern of moral excellence and beauty? Now, beloved, you are to be just like that;-not quick in temper, as perhaps you now are, but meek and lowly as he was;-not haughty, and prone to pride, but humble and gentle as he was;-not selfish and self-seeking, but as disinterested and as tender to others as he was; in fact, perfection’s own self. It was said of Harry the Eighth that, if all the histories of all the tyrants who ever lived had been lost, you might have composed them all with the material from the life of that execrable monster; and I will venture to say that, if all the biographies of all the good men and holy angels that have ever existed could be blotted out of existence or memory, they might all be written again with the material from the life of our Lord Jesus Christ, for in him dwelleth all excellence and all goodness. What a joy it is to us to know that we shall be like him! Brethren and sisters in Christ, this blessed truth is enough to make you stand up or even leap in the exuberance of your joy. I have heard of our enthusiastic Welsh friends dancing during some of their preachers’ sermons; and if it be this or a similar truth which makes them dance, who can wonder at it? “We shall be like him,”-like him in soul, with no more infirmities of temper, or sloth, or undue haste. Our human nature shall be rid of all its rags, and we shall be perfect, even as our Father in heaven is perfect. Oh, that the blessed day had already come, and that we were like our Lord! But “we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.”
“Nor doth it yet appear
How great we must be made;
But when we see our Saviour here,
We shall be like our Head.”
Time fails me to say what I should have liked to have said; yet I ought to add that we shall be like Christ, not only in body and in soul, but also in condition. We shall be with him where he is, and we shall be as happy as he is, as far as our capacity for happiness goes. We shall be crowned even as he is crowned, and we shall sit upon thrones even as he sits upon his Father’s throne. He shall lead us to living fountains of water, and be our constant Companion, never going away from us again. He shall call us his brethren, and we shall share in his honour and glory. The joy of which we shall partake shall be his joy, and it will be in us that our joy may be full. O Christian, think lofty thoughts concerning thy Lord in glory, and remember that thou shalt be like him! I cannot help repeating that quaint little ditty which Rowland Hill was so fond of humming over in his old age,-
“And when I’m to die, ‘Receive me,’ I’ll cry,
For Jesus hath loved, I cannot tell why;
But this I do find, we too are so joined,
He’ll not live in glory and leave me behind.”
So, “we shall be like him;” and the reason why we shall be like him is thus given by John, “for we shall see him as he is.”
How is it that we shall be like him because of that? Partly, by reflection. Perhaps you are aware that, in the olden time, looking glasses (if I may use an Irishism,) were not looking-glasses at all, for they were made of polished brass. If a person looked into such a mirror when the sun was shining upon that mirror, not only would the mirror itself be bright, but it would also throw a reflection on the face of the person who was looking into it. This is only according to the laws of light. When a man looks into a bright mirror, it makes him also bright, for it throws its own light upon his face; and, in a much more wonderful fashion, when we look at Christ, who is all brightness, he throws some of his brightness upon us. When Moses went up into the mount, to commune with God, his face shone because he had received a reflection of God’s glory upon his face. He had looked into the blazing light of Deity, as far as a created eye could look there; and, therefore, that light was so brilliantly reflected in his own face that Aaron and the people were afraid to draw near him, and he had to cover his face with a veil while he spoke to them.
Further, beloved, we get to be like Christ by seeing him, in type and symbol, as through a glass darkly. The Lord’s supper is one of the glasses; believers’ baptism, is another; the preaching of the Word is another; the Bible itself is another of these glasses. It is only a partial reflection of Christ that we get from all these glasses; yet, as we look at it, as Paul writes to the Corinthians, “We all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord,” or, “by the Lord the Spirit.”
But, brethren, if there be such a sanctifying influence about the very reflection of Jesus Christ, what a wondrous power it must have upon us when we see him as he is! When we shall gaze upon him with unveiled vision, and see him as he is, do you wonder that John says that, then, “we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is”? Oh, that amazing sight, that unique sight of Jesus as he is! It would be worth while to die a thousand painful deaths in order to get one brief glimpse of him as he is. I do not think that Rutherford exaggerated when he talked of swimming through seven hells to get at Christ if he could not get at him anyhow else. A distant view of him, as we have seen him “leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills,” has so ravished our souls that we have scarcely known whether we have been in the body or out of the body. When we have heard his voice, we have longed to be with him. The very thought of him has made us, like the dove separated for a while from her mate, long to cleave the air with rapid wing, and fly home to our dove-cote, and to our blessed Noah. What must it be to be there? What must it be to see our Saviour as he is?
In some of the houses not far from here, I noticed some linnets in cages, in which there were tufts of grass, or small branches of trees as perches for the poor prisoners; yet they were singing away right merrily. I suppose that grass and those fragments of trees were meant to remind them, in this great, dirty, smoky Babylon, that there are green fields and wide forests somewhere. I thought, as I looked upon them, “Ah, you poor birds are very like what I myself am! My Master has put me in a little cage, and bidden me bide here for a while; and he has given me my little tuft of grass as an earnest of my inheritance in the-
“Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood.”
He graciously sends me a few comforts on the way. Ah! but that poor little tuft of grass, what is it in comparison with the fields and the hedges which are the proper home of the singing birds which have their liberty? And, Christian, you do not know what it will be for you to have your cage door opened, that you may fly away to that blessed land where the true birds of Paradise for ever warble, from their joyful throats, the loudest praises to the great King who has set them free for ever. Let us begin the music here; let us try even now to anticipate that happy day as we sing of-
“Jerusalem the golden,
With milk and honey blest;”-
where-
“The daylight is serene;”-
and where-
“The pastures of the blessed
Are deck’d in glorious sheen.”
I leave my text with you who love the Lord. As for you who do not love him, I dare not give it to you. Oh, that you did love him, and that you did trust him! He waiteth to be gracious. Seek ye his face, and he will be found of you. Fly to him, and he will not reject you. Trust in him, and he will wash you from all your sins, and bring you to his presence in eternal glory, to go no more out for ever. May he give you this unspeakable blessing, for his love’s sake! Amen.
Exposition by C. H. Spurgeon.
1 JOHN 2, and 3:1, 2.
Chapter 2 Verse 1. My little children, these things write I unto you, that ye sin not.
This is one of the great objects of all that is written by inspiration,-that we may be kept from sin. O child of God, as thou wouldst fear to drink poison, as thou wouldst flee from a serpent, dread sin!
1. And if any man sin,-
Is it a hopeless case then? Far from it: “If any man sin,”-
1-3. We have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous and he is the propitiation for our sins: and not for our’s only, but also for the sins of the whole world. And hereby we do know that we know him, if we keep his commandments.
Holiness of life is the best proof that we know God. It matters not how readily we can speak about God, nor how much we suppose that we love him; the great test is, do we keep his commandments? What a heart-searching test this is! How it should humble us before the mercy-seat!
4-6. He that saith, I know him, and keepeth not his commandments, is a liar, and the truth is not in him. But Whoso keepeth his word, in him verily is the love of God perfected: hereby know we that we are in him. He that saith he abideth in him ought himself also so to walk, even as he walked.
When we try to be, in every respect, what God’s Word tells us we ought to be, then may we know that we are in God; but if we walk carelessly, if we take no account of our actions, but do, after a random fashion, whatever comes into our foolish hearts, then have we no evidence at all that we are in God.
7. Brethren, I write no new commandment unto you, but an old commandment which ye had from the beginning. The old commandment is the word which ye have heard from the beginning.
“From the time when Christ first began to preach, or when the gospel was first preached in your ears.”
8. Again, a new commandment I write unto you, which thing is true in him and in you: because the darkness is past, and the true light now shineth.
That which is new in the gospel, in one sense, is not new in another; for, though John was about to write what he called a new commandment, yet, at the same time, he was writing something which was not novel, something which was not grafted upon the gospel, but which grows naturally out of it, namely, the law of love.
9. He that saith he is in the light, and hateth his brother, is in darkness even until now.
God is love, and God is light; therefore, love is light, and the light of God is love. Where enmity and hatred are still in the heart, it is proof positive that the grace of God is not there.
10-15. He that loveth his brother abideth in the light, and there is none occasion of stumbling in him. But he that hateth his brother is in darkness, and walketh in darkness, and knoweth not whither he goeth, because that darkness hath blinded his eyes. I write unto you, little children, because your sins are forgiven you for his name’s sake. I write unto you, fathers, because ye have known him that is from the beginning. I write unto you, young men, because ye have overcome the wicked one. I write unto you, little children, because ye have known the Father. I have written unto you, fathers, because ye have known him that is from the beginning. I have written unto you, young men, because ye are strong, and the word of God abideth in you, and ye have overcome the wicked one. Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him.
For this sinful world is directly opposed to the Father. You cannot send your heart at the same time in two opposite ways,-towards evil and towards good; you must make a choice between the two.
16, 17. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof: but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever.
It ought not, then, to be difficult to make a choice between these fleeting shadows and the everlasting substance.
18. Little children, it is the last time:-
You may read the passage, “It is the last hour,” as if John wanted to show how late it was, and how soon Christ would come: “It is the last hour:”-
18. And as ye have heard that antichrist shall come, even now are there many antichrists; whereby we know that it is the last time.
How much more emphatically John might write this verse if he were writing to-day!
19. They went out from us,-
For, alas! many of the antichrists came out of the church; they sprang up from among the followers of Christ: “They went out from us,”-
19, 20. But they were not of us; for if they had been of us, they would no doubt have continued with us: but they went out, that they might be made manifest that they were not all of us. But ye have an unction from the Holy One, and ye know all things.
“You who know God-and even the little children, the babes in Christ, know the Father,-know all things; and you will not be led astray and deceived by these antichrists who have gone out into the world.”
21. I have not written unto you because ye know not the truth, but because ye know it, and that no lie is of the truth.
The truth is all of a piece, and a lie cannot be a part of the truth. Christ does not teach us a Jesuitical system in which error and falsehood are mixed up with truth; the gospel is all truth, and to those who believe it we may say, “Ye know the truth, and ye also know that no lie is of the truth.”
22, 23. Who is a liar but he that denieth that Jesus is the Christ? He is antichrist, that denieth the Father and the Son. Whosoever denieth the Son, the same hath not the Father:-
They who deny the Deity of Christ practically deny the Divine Fatherhood of God. It is not possible for us to understand the rest of truth if we do not believe in Christ, who is the Truth. As the poet says,-
“You cannot be right in the rest
Unless you think rightly of him.”
23-28. [But] he that acknowledgeth the Son hath the Father also. Let that therefore abide in you, which ye have heard from the beginning. If that which ye have heard from the beginning shall remain in you, ye also shall continue in the Son, and in the Father. And this is the promise that he hath promised us, even eternal life. These things have I written unto you concerning them that seduce you. But the anointing which ye have received of him abideth in you, and ye need not that any man teach you: but as the same anointing teacheth you of all things, and is truth, and is no lie, and even as it hath taught you, ye shall abide in him. And now, little children, abide in him;-
That which is the subject of promise is also the subject of precept; and the precepts of the gospel are given to Christians because, in this way, God keeps his own promise, and so leads us to obey his precepts.
28, 29. That, when he shall appear, we may have confidence, and not be ashamed before him at his coming. If ye know that he is righteous, ye know that every one that doeth righteousness is born of him.
Chapter 3 Verses 1, 2. Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God: therefore the world knoweth us not, because it knew him not. Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.
SILKEN CORDS
A Sermon
Published on Thursday, September 13th, 1906, delivered by
C. H. SPURGEON,
at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington,
In the year 1864.
“I drew them with cords of a man, with bands of love.”-Hosea 11:4.
No man ever does come to God unless he is drawn. There is no better proof that man is totally depraved than that he needs to be effectually called. Man is so utterly “dead in trespasses and sins” that the same divine power which provided a Saviour must make him willing to accept a Saviour, or else saved he never will be. You see a ship upon the stocks. She is finished and complete. She cannot, however, move herself into the water. You see a tree; it is growing; it brings forth branch, leaf, and fruit, but it cannot fashion itself into a ship. Now, if the finished ship can do nothing, much less the untouched log; and if the tree, which hath life, can do nothing, much less that piece of timber out of which the sap has long since gone. Christ’s declaration, “Without me ye can do nothing,” is true of believers; but it is just as true, and with a profounder emphasis, of those who have not believed in Jesus. They must be drawn, or else to God they never will come.
But many make a mistake about divine drawings. They seem to fancy that God takes men by the hair of their heads, and drags them to heaven, whether they will or not; and that, when the time comes, they will, by some irresistible power, without any exercise of thought or reasoning, be compelled to be saved. Such people understand neither man nor God; for man is not to be compelled in this way. He is not a being so controlled.
“Convince a man against his will.
He’s of the same opinion still.”
As the old proverb says, “One man may bring a horse to the water, but twenty men cannot make him drink;” so, a man may be brought to know what repentance is, and to understand what Christ is, but no man can make another man lay hold upon Christ. Nay, God himself doth not do it by compulsion. He hath respect unto man as a reasoning creature. God never acteth with men as though they were blocks of wood, or senseless stones. Having made them men, he doth not violate their manhood. Having determined by man to glorify himself, he uses means to show forth his glory,-not such as are fit for beasts, or for inanimate nature, but such as are adapted to the constitution of man. My text says as much as this, “I drew them with cords;”-not the cords that are fit for bullocks, but “with cords of a man;”-not the cart-ropes with which men would draw a cart, but the cords with which a man would draw a man; and, as if to explain himself, the Lord puts it, “I drew them with bands of love.” Love is that mighty power which acts upon man. There must be loving appeals to the different parts of his nature, and so he shall be constrained by sovereign grace.
Understand, then, it is true that no man comes to God except he is drawn; but it is equally true that God draweth no man contrary to the constitution of man, but his methods of drawing are in strict accordance with ordinary mental operations. He finds the human mind what it is, and he acts upon it, not as upon matter, but as upon mind. The compulsions, the constraints, the cords that he uses, are “cords of a man.” The bands he employs are “bands of love.”
This is clear enough. Now I am about to try-and may the Lord enable me!-to show you some of these cords, these bands, which the Lord fastens round the hearts of sinners. I may be the means in his hands of putting these cords round you, but I cannot pull them after they are on. It is one thing to put the rope on, but another thing to draw with all one’s might at that rope. So it may be that I shall introduce the arguments, and, by the prayers of the faithful now present, God will be pleased, in his infinite mercy, to pull these cords, and then your soul will be sweetly drawn, with full consent, with the blessed yielding of your will, to come and lay hold upon eternal life.
First, some are drawn to Christ by seeing the happiness of true believers.
A true believer is the happiest being out of heaven. In some respects, he is superior to an angel, for he hath a brighter hope and a grander destiny than even cherubim and seraphim can know. He is one with Christ, which an angel never was. He is a son of God, and has the Spirit of adoption within him, which a cherub never had. There are some Christians who show this happiness in their lives. Watch them, and you will always find them cheerful. If, for a moment, a cloud should pass over their brow, it is but for a moment, and soon they rejoice again. I know such people, and glad am I to think that I ever came across their pathway. Wherever they go, they make sunshine. Into whatever company they come, it is as if an angel shook his wings. Let them talk when they may, it is always for the comfort of others, with kindness upon their lips, and the law of love within their hearts. Many a young person, watching such Christians as these, is led to say, “I wish I were as happy, I wish I were as joyful, as they are; they always have a smile upon their face.” And I do not doubt that many have been brought to lay hold on Jesus through being drawn by that band of love.
And let me say to you, dear friend, that this is a most fitting cord with which to draw you; for if you would know the sweets of life, if you would have peace like a river, if you would have a peace that shall be with you in the morning, and go with you into your business;-that shall be with you at night, and close your eyes in tranquil slumber;-a peace that shall enable you to live, and shall strengthen you in the prospect of death,-nay, that shall make you sing in the midst of the black and chill stream;-be a Christian. My testimony is that, if I had to die like a dog; if this life were all, and there were no hereafter; I would prefer to be a Christian for the joy and peace which, in this present life, godliness will afford. “Godliness with contentment is great gain.” It hath the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come. Thou wouldst be happy, young man; then do not kill thy happiness. Thou wouldst have a bright eye; then do not put it out. Thou wouldst rejoice with joy unspeakable; then do not go into those places where sorrow is sure to follow thine every act. Wouldst thou be happy? Come to Jesus. Let this band of love sweetly draw thee.
Another band of love-it was the one which brought me to the Saviour,-is the sense of the security of God’s people, and a desire to be as secure as they are. I do not know what may be the peculiarity of my constitution, but safe things have I always loved. I have not, that I know of, one grain of speculation in my nature. Safe things-things that I can see to be made of rock, and that will bear the test of time,-I lay hold on with avidity. I was reasoning thus in my boyish spirit:-Scripture tells me that he that believeth in Christ shall never perish. Then, if I believe in Jesus, I shall be safe for time and for eternity too. There will be no fear of my ever being in hell; I shall run no risk as to my eternal state; that will be secure for ever. I shall have the certainty that, when my eyes are closed in death, I shall see the face of Christ, and behold him in glory. Whenever I heard the doctrine of the final preservation of the saints preached, my mouth used to water, and I used to long to be a child of God. When I heard the old saints sing that hymn,-
“My name from the palms of his hands
Eternity will not erase;
Impress’d on his heart it remains
In marks of indelible grace:
Yes, I to the end shall endure,
As sure as the earnest is given;
More happy, but not more secure,
The glorified spirits in heaven;”-
my heart was as if it would leap out of this body, and I would cry to God, “Oh, that I had a part and not in such a salvation as that!” Now, young man, what do you think of this band of love? Do you not think there is something reasonable and something powerful in it,-to secure yourself against all risk of eternal ruin, and that, by the grace of God, in a moment? “He that believeth on him is not condemned.” “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.” “He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved.” “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: and I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any pluck them out of my hand.” What say you to this? Doth not this truth attract you? Doth not this band draw you? Lord, draw the sinner, by the sweet allurement of security, and let him say, “I will lay hold on Christ to-night.”
Certain Christians will tell you that they were first drawn to Christ by the holiness of godly relatives,-not so much by their happiness as by their holiness. There is an Eastern fable that a man, wishing to attract all the doves from the neighbouring dovecotes into his own, took a dove, and smeared her wings with sweet perfume. Away she flew, and all her fellow-doves observed her, and, attracted by the sweet incense, flew after her, and the dovecote was soon full. There are some Christians of that sort. They have had their wings smeared with the precious ointment of likeness to Jesus, and wherever they go, such is their kindness and their consistency, their gentleness and yet their honesty, their lovely spirit and yet their boldness for Jesus, that others take knowledge of them that they have been with Jesus, and they say, “Where does he dwell, for I would fain see him, and love him too?” I am afraid I cannot attract you, sinner, in such a charming way as that, but I would have you read the lives of godly men. Study the actions, perhaps, of your own mother. Is she dead? Then remember what she used to be,-what her life of devotedness to God was; and I charge you, by the love of God, by her many prayers and tears, by the pity of her soul, and the yearning of her bowels towards you, let your mother’s example be one of the bands of love to draw you towards God. Lord, pull at that cord! Lord, pull at that cord! If the cord be round about you, and the Lord will pull at it, I shall have good hope that you will close with Christ to-night.
You see, I only show you the cord, and then leave it, hoping that perhaps one or another may be taken by its power. Now for another. I believe that not a few are brought to Christ by gratitude for mercies received. The sailor has escaped from shipwreck, or, perhaps, even in the River Thames, he has had many a narrow escape for his life. The sportsman has had his gun burst in his hand, and yet he has been himself unharmed. The traveller has escaped from a terrific railway accident, himself picked out of the debris of the broken carriages unhurt. The parent has seen his children, one after another, laid upon a bed of sickness with fever, but yet they have all been spared; or he himself has had loss upon loss in business, till at last it seemed as if a crash must come; but, just then, God interposed in a gracious providence, and forthwith a strong tide of prosperity set in. Some have thought over these things, and said, “Is God so good to us, and shall we not love him? Shall we live every day despising him who thus tenderly watches over us, and graciously provides for our wants?” O sirs, methinks this band of love ought to fall about some of you! How good God has been to you, dear hearer! I will not tell your case out in, public; but when you have sometimes talked with a friend, you have said, “How graciously has providence dealt with me!” Give the Lord thy heart, young man; surely thou canst do no less for such favour as he has shown thee. Mother, give Jesus thy heart; he well deserves it, for he has spared it from being broken. Woman, consecrate-may the Lord help thee to do it!-consecrate thy heart’s warmest affections to him who hath thus generously dealt with thee in providence. He deserves it, doth he not? Wilt thou be guilty of ingratitude? Is there not something within thee that says, “Stay no longer an enemy to so kind a Friend, but be reconciled to him; be reconciled to God by the death of his Son”? May that cord lay hold of some of you, and may God draw it, and so attract you to himself!
Persons whose characteristic is thinking rather than loving are often caught by another cord. I do not know what may be your mode of thinking of things; but it strikes, me that, if I had not laid hold of Christ now, if anybody should meet me, and say, “The religion of Christ is the most reasonable religion in the world”. I should lend him my ear for a little time, and ask him to prove it to me. I have frequently caught the ears of travellers, and held them fast bound, when I have tried to show the entire reasonableness of the plan of salvation. God is just; that is taken for granted. If God be just, sin must be punished; that is clear. Then, how can God be just, and yet not punish the sinner? That is the question, and the gospel answers that question. It declares that Christ, the Son of God, became a man; that he stood in the room, place, and stead of such men as were chosen of God to be saved. These men may be known by their believing in Christ. Christ stood, then, in the place and stead of those whom I will now call believers. He suffered at God’s hand everything that was due to God from them. Nay, he did more. Inasmuch as they were bound to keep God’s law, but could not do it, Christ kept it for them; and now, what Christ did becomes theirs by an act of faith. They trust Christ to save them. Christ’s sufferings are put in the stead of their being sent to hell, and they are justly delivered from their sins. Christ’s righteousness is put in the stead of their keeping the law of God, and they are justly rewarded with a place in paradise, as if they had themselves been perfectly holy.
Now, it strikes me that this looks reasonable enough. In everyday life, we see the same thing done. A man is drawn for the militia; he pays for a substitute, and he himself goes free. A man owes a debt; some friend comes in, and discharges the bill for him, and he himself is clear. The ends of justice are answered through substitution. There seems to me to be something so unique about the whole affair of God taking the place of man, and God’s suffering in man’s form for man that justice may by no means be marred, that my reason falls down at the feet of this great mystery, and cries, “I would have an interest in it; Lord, let me be one of those for whom Jesus died; let me have the peace which springs from a complete atonement wrought out by Jesus Christ.” My brother, I wish I could draw thee with this cord; but I cannot. I can only show thee this cord, and tell thee how well it would draw thee. If thou rejectest it, thy blood shall be upon thine own head. I know too well thou wilt reject it, unless the mighty hand of God shall begin to tug at that band of love, and draw thee to Jesus.
Far larger numbers, however, axe doubtless attracted to Jesus by a sense of his exceeding great love. It is not so much the reasonableness of the atonement as the love of God which shines in it which seems to attract many souls. There once lived, in the city of London, a rich merchant, a man of generous spirit, a Lollard, one of those who were subjected to fine, and imprisonment, and even death for the truth’s sake. Near him there lived a miserable cobbler,-a poor, mean, despicable creature. The merchant, for some reason unknown, had taken a very great liking to the poor cobbler, and was in the habit of giving him all his work to do, and recommending him to many friends, and as this man would not always work as he should, when the merchant saw his family in any need, he would send them meat from his own table, and frequently he clothed his children. Well, notwithstanding that he had acted thus, had often advanced him sums of money, and had acted with great kindness, a reward was offered to anyone who would betray a Lollard, or would discover such person or persons as read the Bible, to the magistrates. The cobbler, to obtain this reward, went to the magistrates, and betrayed the merchant. As God would have it, however, through some skilful advocate, the merchant escaped. He forgave-freely forgave-the cobbler, and never said a word to him about it; but, in the streets, the cobbler would always turn his head the other way, and try to get out of the way of the man whom he felt he had so grievously ill-treated. Still, the merchant never altered his treatment of him, but sent him meat as usual, and attended to his wife and children if they were sick, the same as before; but he never could get the cobbler to give him a good word. If he did speak, it was to abuse him. One day, in a very narrow lane in the city,-for the streets were narrow, and narrower still were the lanes,-the merchant saw the cobbler coming, and he thought, “Now is my time; he cannot pass me now without facing me.” Of course, the cobbler grew very red in the face, and made up his mind that, if the merchant should begin to upbraid him, he would answer him in as saucy a manner as possible. But when the merchant came close to him, he said, “I am very sorry that you shun me; I have no ill-will towards you; I would do anything for you or for your family, and nothing would give me greater pleasure than to be friends with you.” The cobbler stopped, and presently a moisture suffused his eyes; and, anon, a flood of tears poured down his cheeks, and he said, “I have been such a base wretch to you that I hated you, for I thought that you would never forgive me. I have always shunned you; but when you talk to me like this, I cannot be your enemy any longer. Pray, sir, assure me of your forgiveness.” Forthwith, he began to fall upon his knees. That was the way to draw him with the cords of a man, and with the bands of love; and, in a nobler sense, this is just what Jesus Christ has done for sinners. He has offered you mercy; he has proclaimed to you eternal life; and you reject it. Every day he gives you of his bounties, makes you to feed at the table of his providence, and clothes you with the livery of his generosity. And yet, after all this, some of you curse him; you break his Sabbaths; you despise his name; you are his enemies. Yet, what does he say to you? He loves you still; he follows you, not to rebuke you, but to woo you, and to entreat you to come to him, and have him for your Friend. Can you hold out against my Master’s wounds? Can you stand out against his bloody sweat? Can you resist his passion? Oh! by the name of him who bowed his head upon the tree, who cried, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” can you hold out against him? If he had not died for me, I think I must love him for dying for other people. But he has died for you; you may know this if you trust him now with your soul, just as you are. This is the evidence that he died for you. Oh, may God enable you to trust Jesus now, drawing you with this band of love, this cord of a man!
There are many more cords, but my strength fails me, and therefore I will mention but one more. The privileges which a Christian enjoys ought to draw some of you to Christ. Do you know what will take place in these aisles to-night if the Holy Spirit should lead a sinner to Christ? I will tell you. There he stands, he is as vile a sinner as walks this earth. He knows it; he is wretched; he has a burden on his back. If that man is led to look to Christ to-night, his sins will roll off from him at once; they will roll into the sepulchre of Jesus, and be buried, and never have a resurrection. In a moment, he will be clothed from head to foot with white raiment. The kiss of a Father’s love shall be upon his cheek, and the seal of the Spirit’s witness shall be fixed upon his brow. He shall be made, to-night, a child of God, a joint-heir with Jesus Christ. His feet shall be shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace. He shall be clothed with the righteousness of Jesus. He shall go to his house, not wretched, but as though he could dance for joy the whole way home. And when he gets home, it may be never so poor a cottage, but it will look brighter than it ever did before. His children he will look upon as jewels entrusted to his care, instead of being burdens, as he once said they were. His very trials he will come to thank God for; while his ordinary mercies will be sweetened, and made very dear to him. The man, instead of leading a life like a hell upon earth, will live a life like heaven begun below; and all this shall take place in an instant.
Nay, that is not all; the effect of this night’s work shall tell throughout his entire life. He shall be a new creature in Christ Jesus; so that, when the time shall come that his hair is grey, and he lies stretched upon his bed, and breathes out his life, he shall, in his last moments, look back upon a path that has been lit with the grace of God, and look forward across the black river to an eternity in which the glory of God shall shine forth with as great a fulness as a creature can endure. This is enough, surely, to tempt a sinner to come to Jesus. This must be a strong cord to draw him. O man, Jesus will accept you; he will accept you now, just as you are! He has received millions like you already; let heaven’s music witness to the fact. Millions more like you he is still willing to receive; some of us can bear our testimony to that. Come and welcome, then; come and welcome. Never mind thy rags, prodigal; a Father’s hand will take them off; never mind thy filth; never mind having fed the swine. Come as thou art; come just now.
I hear somebody saying, “Well, I am inclined to come; but I do not know what it means to come to Christ.” To come to Christ is to trust him. You have been trying to save yourself; do not try any more. You have been going to church, or going to chapel, and you have been trying to keep the commandments; but you cannot keep them. No man ever did keep them, and no man ever will keep them. You have been, in fact, like a prisoner who has been sentenced to hard labour; you have been walking upon the treadmill in order to get to the stars, and you are not an inch higher. After all you have done, you are just where you were. Now, leave this off; have done with it. Christ did keep the law; let his keeping it stand in the stead of your keeping it. Christ did suffer the anger of God; let his sufferings stand to you in the stead of your sufferings. Take him now, just as you are, and believe that he can save you,-nay, that he will save you, and trust him to do it. This is all the gospel I have to preach. Very seldom do I finish a sermon without going over this simple matter of trusting Christ. There are some, perhaps, who enquire for something new. I cannot give it to you; I have not got anything new, but only the same old story over and over again. Trust Christ, and you are saved.
We have heard, in our church-meetings, that, on several occasions, when, at the close of the sermon, I have merely said as much as that, it has been enough to lead sinners into life and peace; and, therefore, I will keep on at it. My heart yearns to bring some of you to Christ to-night, but I know not what arguments to use with you. You surely do not wish to be damned. Surely you cannot make the calculation that the short pleasures of this world are worth an eternity of torment; but damned you must be except you lay hold on Christ. Doth not this cord draw you? Surely you want to be in heaven. You have some desire toward that better land in the realms of the hereafter; but you cannot be there except you lay hold on Christ. Will not this cord of love draw you? Surely it would be a good thing to get rid of fear, and suspense, and doubt, and anxiety. It would be a. good thing to be able to lay your head on your pillow, and say, “I do not care whether I wake or not;” to go to sea, and reckon it a matter of perfect indifference whether you reach land or no. Nay, sometimes the wish with us to depart preponderates over that of remaining here. Do you not wish for that? But you can never have it except by laying hold on Christ. Will not this draw you?
My dear hearers, you, whose faces I look upon every Sabbath, and into whose ears this poor, dry voice has spoken so many hundreds of times, we do not wish to be parted. I know that, to some of you, this is the very happiest, as well as the holiest spot you ever occupied. You love to be here. I am glad you do, and I am glad to see you. I do not like to be separated from you. When any of you remove to other towns, it gives me pain to miss your faces. I hope we shall not be separated in the world to come. My beloved friends around me, who have been in Christ these many years, you also love them. We do not wish to be divided. I would like that all this ship’s company should meet on the other side of the sea. I do not know one among you that I could spare. I would not like to miss any of you who sit yonder, nor any of you who sit near; neither the youngest nor the oldest of you. Well, but we cannot meet in heaven unless we meet in Jesus Christ. We cannot meet father, and mother, and pastor, and friends, unless we have a good hope through Jesus Christ our Lord. Will not that band of love draw you? Mother, from the battlements of heaven, a little angel-child is looking down to-night, beckoning with his finger. He is looking out for you, and he is saying, “Mother, follow your babe to heaven.” Father, your daughter charged you, as she died, to give your heart to Christ, and from her seat in heaven her charge comes down to you with as great force as it came from her sick-bed, I trust, “Follow me, follow me to heaven.” Friends who have gone before,-godly ones who have fallen asleep in Jesus,-in one chorus, say to you, “Come up hither; come up hither, for we without you cannot be made perfect.” Will not this band of love draw you? Oh, will not this cord of a man lay hold upon you, and bring you to the Saviour’s feet? The Lord grant that it may; but, as I have said, I can only show you the cords. It is God’s work to pull them; and they will be pulled if the saints will join in earnest prayer, invoking a blessing upon sinners. The Lord grant it, for his love’s sake! Amen.
Exposition by C. H. Spurgeon.
HOSEA 11, and 14.
Chapter 11 Verse 1. When Israel was a child, then I loved him, and called my son out of Egypt.
God’s love was very early love. He began with the nation of Israel when it was a mere handful of men in Egypt. There he multiplied them; and, in due time, he called them out from among the heathen. God’s love to some of us manifested itself at a very early period of our lives, when we were yet children. It is among our most joyous memories that we have known the Lord from our youth up. Happy man, happy woman, of whom God can say, as he said concerning his ancient people, “When Israel was a child, then I loved him, and called my son out of Egypt.”
2. As they called them, so they went from them: they sacrificed unto Baalim, and burned incense to graven images.
The nation of Israel did not fulfil the promise of its youth; it was not faithful to God. The people heard from the lips of Moses the command, “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is one Lord:” yet they turned aside continually to the idols of the nations. Have not some of us also, although we have been loved by God, been faithless to him? Can we not look back, with great regret and sorrow, upon our many stumblings and backslidings? If it be so, let us repent of our sin, and never repeat it.
3. I taught Ephraim also to go,-
Just as nurses teach children to walk: “I taught Ephraim also to go,”-
3. Taking them by their arms; but they knew not that I healed them.
God has done great things for many of us who, possibly, have never noticed his hand at work on our behalf. Lives which were in great peril have been saved, yet the goodness of God has never been acknowledged by those whom he has delivered. Men have been raised up from beds of sickness, yet the great and good Healer has never been thanked for what he has done for them. Oh, how sad it is that God should do so much for us, and yet that we should not even thank him for doing it.
4. I drew them with cords of a man, with bands of love: and I was to them as they that take off the yoke on their jaws, and I laid meat unto them.
As men do with the bullocks that have been ploughing, lifting the yoke from them, and giving them rest and food before they have to begin ploughing again. So did God to Israel, and so has he done to us. He lifted from us the heavy burden of our sin, and he gave us rest and heavenly food. But oh, what a poor return we have made for all the thoughtful kindness of our God! If any man here imagines that he can boast of his conduct towards his God, he does not feel as I do. Rather, dear friends, I think that we all ought to humble ourselves in the Lord’s presence when we remember what ill returns we have made for all that he has done for us.
5, 6. He shall not return into the land of Egypt, but the Assyrian shall be his king, because they refused to return. And the sword shall abide on his cities, and shall consume his branches, and devour them, because of their own counsels.
If men will sin, they shall suffer; and God’s people will be the first to suffer for their sins against the Lord, as he said by the mouth of the prophet Amos, “You only have I known of all the families of the earth: therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities.” If a man lets other men’s children go unchastened, he will chastise his own children, if he is worthy of the name of a father; and God will do the same. He will not destroy us, but he will chasten us if we backslide from him.
7, 8. And my people are bent to backsliding from me: though they called them to the most High, none at all would exalt him. How shall I give thee up, Ephraim? how shall I deliver thee, Israel?
There seems to be a contest in the heart of God; at least, that is how he describes it himself, as though mercy pleaded with justice, and love contended with wrath: “How shall I give thee up, Ephraim? how shall I deliver thee, Israel.”
8. How shall I make thee as Admah? how shall I set thee as Zeboim?
“I cannot destroy thee, as I destroyed the guilty cities of the plain in the days of old.”
8. Mine heart is turned within me, my repentings are kindled together.
O backsliders, if God’s repentings are kindled, will not yours also be kindled? If you have left him, and yet he will not give you up, will you give him up? Will you not return to him? Listen to his own words:-
9. I will not execute the fierceness of mine anger, I will not return to destroy Ephraim: for I am God, and not man;-
What a mercy this is for us! If the Lord had been man, he would have cast us off long ago; but, as he is God, he is infinitely patient, and he loves to forgive: “I am God, and not man;”-
9, 10. The Holy One in the midst of thee: and I will not enter into the city. They shall walk after the Lord:
See what his almighty grace will do to make these wanderers come back to him.
10. He shall roar like a lion; when he shall roar, then the children shall tremble from the west.
Even his roaring like a lion will only make them tremblingly come back to him.
11, 12. They shall tremble as a bird out of Egypt, and as a dove out of the land of Assyria: and I will place them in their houses, saith the Lord. Ephraim compasseth me about with lies, and the house of Israel with deceit: but Judah yet ruleth with God, and is faithful with the saints.
Chapter 14 Verse 1. O Israel, return unto the Lord thy God; for thou hast fallen by thine iniquity.
Let anyone here, who has turned aside from the Lord, hear these tender pleading words, and then yield to him who utters them. God speaks, not to condemn, but to comfort. He would fain allure you back to him with his gracious words of love: “O Israel, return unto the Lord thy God; for thou hast fallen by thine iniquity.”
2. Take with you words, and turn to the Lord:
But the poor penitent cries, “Alas, Lord, I do not know what to say.” So God puts in the sinner’s mouth the very words he is to utter.
2. Say unto him. Take away all iniquity,-
That is where the mischief lies, in your in-equity, your turning aside from the path of truth and equity. Say to the Lord, “I do not want to keep any of my iniquity; I desire to be delivered from it altogether.” “Take away all iniquity,”-
2. And receive us graciously:-
“Lord, take us back again. According to the greatness of thy grace, restore us to thy heart of love, and let us dwell where thy children dwell: ‘Receive us graciously:’ ”-
2. So will we render the calves of our lips.
That is to say, “We will give thee the sacrifice of our praises. We will speak well of thy name. If we have the calves of the stall, we will give them to thee; but, in any case, we will give thee the calves of our lips.”
3. Asshur shall not save us;-
They had been accustomed to rely either upon Assyria or upon Egypt; and one of the first signs of their real repentance was that they had given up their false dependences. So, sinner, you must give up your self-righteousness, your ceremonialism, anything and everything in which you have trusted in place of trusting in the Lord: “Asshur shall not save us;”-
3. We will not ride upon horses:-
In the day of battle, they had trusted in their cavalry; but now, in the time of their repentance, they cry, “We will not ride upon horses;”-
3. Neither will we say any more to the work of our hands, Ye are our gods: for in thee the fatherless findeth mercy.
What a beautiful ending there is to this verse! If any of you are full of sin, and full of wants, and have become like orphans who have lost everything, and are utterly destitute,-if you have none to provide for you, and none to care for you, come to the God of the fatherless, and put your trust in him: “For in thee the fatherless findeth mercy.”
Then follows this gracious promise:-
4. I will heal their backsliding, I will love them freely:-
Listen to the heavenly music: “I will.” “I will.” When God says, “I will,” you may depend upon it that he will do what he says he will. If you or I say, “I will,” it must be with the proviso, “If it is God’s will, I will do so-and-so;” but God is the almighty King whose least word is a sovereign mandate: “I will heal their backsliding: I will love them freely:”-
4. For mine anger is turned away from him.
If you have come back to the Lord with true penitence of heart, he is no longer angry with you, but he is ready to welcome you again.
5. I will be as the dew unto Israel:-
“Not as fire, not as tempest; but in gentle yet effectual grace, I will visit them. ‘I will be as the dew unto Israel:’ ”-
5. He shall grow as the lily,
“He shall be as beautiful and fair as the lily, though just now he was black as night.”
5. And cast forth his roots as Lebanon.
“He shall be as stable as he is beautiful. Like old Lebanon, the mighty mountain, which none can shake, so shall this poor sinner be when I have visited him with my love.”
6. His branches shall spread,
“I will endue him with usefulness and influence.”
6. And his beauty shall be as the olive tree,
“I will load him with fruit. He shall have the beauty that belongs to that fat and oily tree, the olive.”
6. And his smell as Lebanon.
God can make the foul, polluted sinner to become fragrant to him: “His smell shall be as Lebanon.”
7. They that dwell under his shadow shall return;-
His family, his work-people, his neighbours, who wandered from the Lord because he wandered, shall get good from his holy influence. His restoration shall be a benediction to them: “They that dwell under his shadow shall return;”-
7. They shall revive as the corn, and grow as the vine: the scent thereof shall be as the wine of Lebanon.
All good things come to a man when God comes to him, and he comes to God. Get right with God, and you shall get right with all things around you, and you shall be the means of helping to put other people right.
8. Ephraim shall say, What have I to do any more with idols?
“He will spontaneously purge himself from the evil things which he once loved. I shall not need to send the hammer to break his idols, but he shall say, out of the fulness of his own heart, ‘What have I to do any more with idols?’ ”
8, 9. I have heard him, and observed him: I am like a green fir tree. From me is thy fruit found. Who is wise, and he shall understand these things? prudent, and he shall know them? for the ways of the Lord are right, and the just shall walk in them: but the transgressors shall fall therein.
Yes, they shall fall even when they are in the right ways; and I know of no falling that is worse than for men to be in the ways of religion, and yet to stumble and fall even there; for, if they fall there, where will they not fall?