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The Sick Man Left Behind by Charles Spurgeon

January 7, 2010 by ADMIN

“But Trophimus have I left at Miletum sick,” — 2 Timothy 4:20.

THESE are among the last words of Paul the Apostle, for we find them in the closing verses of the last of his epistles. The chapter reminds us of a dying man’s final adieu to his best beloved friend, in the course of which he calls to mind the associates of his life. Among his memories of love we find Paul recollecting Trophimus, who had frequently shared with him the perils of rivers and perils of robbers which so largely attended the apostle’s career. He had left the good man ill at Miletum, and as Timothy at Ephesus was within an easy journey of him, there was no need to add a hint that he would visit him, for he would be sure to do it. The love of Jesus works in the hearts of his disciples great tenderness and unity. The overflow of our Lord’s great soul has saturated all his true followers with brotherly affection: because Jesus has loved Paul, Paul loves Timothy, and Timothy must needs love Trophimus. From this love there arises communion of feeling, so that in sympathy they share each other’s joys and griefs. When one member rejoices the body rejoices, and when one member suffers the whole body suffers with it.

Trophimus is sick, and Paul cannot forget him, though he himself expects in a few weeks to die a martyr’s death; neither would he have Timothy ignorant of the fact, though twice within a few verses he hurries him to come to Rome, saying, “Do thy diligence to come shortly unto me.” If Timothy could not personally visit the sick friend, yet it was well that he should know of his affliction, for he would then remember him in his prayers. “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God.” Let us remember those who are one with us in Christ, and especially let us bear on our hearts all those who are afflicted in mind, body, or estate. If we have had to leave Trophimus at Miletum, or at Brighton, or at Ventnor, let us leave our heart’s love with him; and if we hear that another Trophimus lies sick not far from our own abode, let us accept the information as in itself a sufficient summons to minister to the afflicted friend. May holy sympathy pervade all our souls, for, however active and zealous we may be, we have not yet reached a perfect character unless we are full of compassion, tender-hearted, and considerate of the sorrowful, for this is the mind of Christ.

Let us admire “the love of the Spirit” who, while he lifts Ezekiel and Daniel above the spheres, and raises the language of David and Isaiah to the utmost pitch of poetry and eloquence, yet deigns to breathe in such a line as this, — “Trophimus have I left at Miletum sick.” Can we learn anything more from this plain line of apostolic penmanship? Let us see. If the same divine Spirit who inspired it will shine upon it we shall not read it in vain.

I. From the fact that Paul left Trophimus at Miletum sick we learn that IT IS THE WILL OF GOD THAT SOME GOOD MEN SHOULD BE IN ILL HEALTH.

Whatever the malady may have been which affected Trophimus, Paul could certainly have healed him if the divine Spirit had permitted the use of his miraculous powers to that end. He had raised up Eutychus from death, and he had given the use of his limbs to the cripple at Lystra; we feel, therefore, fully assured that had God allowed the apostle so to use his healing energy, Trophimus would have left his bed, and continued his journey to Rome. Not so, however, had the Lord willed; the good fruit-bearing vine must be pruned, and Trophimus must suffer: there were ends to be answered by his weakness which could not be compassed by his health. Instantaneous restoration could have been given, but it was withheld under divine direction.

This doctrine leads us away from the vain idea of chance. We are not wounded by arrows shot at a venture, but we smart by the determinate counsel of heaven. An overruling hand is everywhere present, preventing or permitting ill, and no one shaft of disease is ever let fly by stealth from the bow of death. If some one must be ill it was a wise providence which selected Trophimus, for it was better for him to be ill than Titus, or Tychicus, or Timothy. It was well, too, that he happened to be ill at Miletum near to his own native city, Ephesus. We cannot always see the hand of God in providence, but we may be always sure that it is there. If not a sparrow lighteth on the ground without our Father, surely not a child of the divine family is laid low without his sacred will. Chance is a heathenish idea, which cannot live in the presence of an everywhere present, living, and working God. Away with it from every Christian mind! It is alike dishonoring to the Lord and grievous to ourselves.

This also delivers us from regarding affliction as being always brought upon men by their personal sin. Many a sickness has been the direct result of intemperance, or some other form of wickedness; but here is a worthy, well-approved brother laid aside and left on the road through a malady for which he is not blamed in any measure. It is too common nowadays for men to be of a hard and cruel spirit, and ascribe the illnesses even of those who are true children of God to some fault in their habits of life. We wonder how they would like to be dealt with in this manner if they were suffering, and could wash their hands in innocency in reference to their daily lives. In our Lord’s day they told him, “Lord, he whom thou lovest is sick”; and Solomon long before that time wrote, “whom the Lord loveth he correcteth; even as a father the son in whom he delighteth.” This was much better, more humane, and more truthful speech than the frozen philosophy of modern times which traces each man’s sickness to his own violation of natural law, and, instead of pouring in the balm of consolation, pours out the sulphuric acid of slanderous insinuation. Let the afflicted examine himself to see if the rod be not sent to correct some secret evil, and let him diligently consider wherein he may amend; but far be it from us to stand at his bedside like judges or lictors, and look upon our friend as an offender as well as a sufferer. Such brutality may be left to the philosophers, it would ill become the sons of God. We may not think a shade the less of Trophimus because he is sick at Miletum; he is probably a far better mart than any of us, and perhaps for that very reason he is more tried. There is gold in him which pays for putting into the crucible; he bears such rich fruit that he is worth pruning; he is a diamond of so pure a water that he will repay the lapidary’s toil. This may not be quite so true of any of us, and, therefore, we escape his sharper trials. Let us, as James saith, “count them happy that endure,” and, like David, say, “Blessed is the man whom thou chastenest, O Lord, and teachest him out of thy law.” What saith the Scriptures — “For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not?”

Lazarus of Bethany, Dorcas, Epaphroditus, and Trophimus are a few of that great host of sick folk whom the Lord loves in their sicknesses, for whom the promise was written, “The Lord will strengthen him upon the bed of languishing: thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness.”

II. We have only strength and space for mere hints, and so we notice, secondly, that GOOD MEN MAY BE LAID ASIDE WHEN THEY SEEM TO BE MOST NEEDED, as Trophimus was when the aged apostle had but a scanty escort, and required his aid.

Paul wanted him badly enough soon after he had been obliged to leave him at Miletum, for he writes sorrowfully, “Demas hath forsaken me, having loved this present world, and is departed unto Thessalonica; Crescens to Galatia, Titus unto Dalmatia. Only Luke is with me.” “And Tychicus have I sent to Ephesus.” How glad he would have been of Trophimus, for we see how he begs Timothy to come with all speed, and to bring Mark with him, whose service he greatly needed. Yet not even for Paul’s sake can Trophimus be suddenly raised up: his Lord sees it to be needful that he should feel the heat of the furnace, and into the crucible he must go.

We think that the church cannot spare the earnest minister, the indefatigable missionary, the faithful deacon, the tender teacher; but God thinketh not so. No one is indispensable in the household of God. He can do his own work not only without Trophimus, but even without Paul. Yea, we go further; it sometimes happens that the work of the Lord is quickened by the decease of one upon whom it seemed to depend. When a broad, far-spreading tree is cut down, many smaller trees which were dwarfed and stunted while it stood suddenly shoot up into vigorous growth; even so, one good man may do much, and yet when he is removed others may do more. Temporary illnesses of great workers may call to the front those who would else, from very modesty, have remained in the rear, and the result may be a great gain.

Poor Trophimus had in his healthier days been the innocent cause of bringing Paul into a world of trouble, for we read in Acts 21:27, that a tumult was made by the Jews, because they imagined that Paul had brought Trophimus into the temple, and so had defiled it. Now, when he could have been of service, he is sick, and no doubt it was a great grief to him that it should be so: yet for him, as oftentimes for us, there was no alternative but to submit himself under the hand of God, and feel that the Lord is always right. Why do we not yield at once? Why do we chomp the bit and paw the ground, restless to be on the road? If our Lord bids us stand still, can we not be quiet? Active spirits are apt to become restive spirits when under the restraining hand; energy soon sours into rebellion, and we quarrel with God because we are not allowed to glorify him in our own way — a foolish form of contest, which at bottom means that we have a will of our own, and will only serve God upon condition of having it indulged.

Brethren, he who writes these lines knows what he writes, and this is the verdict of his experience: — God’s work needs us far less than we imagine, and God would have us aware of this fact, for he will not give his glory to human instruments any more than he will allow his praise to be bestowed on graven images.

III. Our text clearly shows us that GOOD MEN WOULD HAVE THE LORD’S WORK GO ON WHATEVER BECOMES OF THEM.

Paul did not desert Trophimus, but left him, because a higher call summoned him to Rome. Trophimus we may be sure did not wish to delay the great apostle, but was content to be left. No doubt they both felt the separation, but like true soldiers of Christ they endured hardness, and for the sake of the cause parted company for a while.

It would be a great grief to a true-hearted worker if he knew that any fellow-laborer slackened his pace for his sake. The sick in an army of an earthly monarch are necessarily an impediment, but it need not be so in the army of the King of kings. Spiritual sickness is a sore hindrance, but sickness of body should not delay the host. If we cannot preach we can pray; if one work is out of our reach we can try another, and if we can do nothing our inability should serve as a call to the vigorous to be doing all the more. Trophimus is sick, then let Timothy be the more energetic.

Trophimus cannot attend the apostle then let Timothy be the more diligent to come before winter. Thus, by acting as an incentive, the lack of one man’s service may produce tenfold more in others who are roused to extra exertions.

Brethren, it will be the sweetest alleviation to the pains of a sick pastor if he sees you each and all nerved to special diligence; his enforced rest will be the better enjoyed if he knows that the Church of God is not a sufferer because of it; and his whole mind and spirit will minister to the health of his body if he sees the fruit of the Spirit of God in you all, keeping you faithful and zealous. Will you not see to this for Jesus’ sake?

A sermon preached from the sick bed of C. H. Spurgeon (January 12th, 1879).

The current formatting and editing is copyrighted by Jim Ehrhard, 2000. You are permitted to reproduce and distribute this material in any format provided that: (1) you credit the author; (2) any modifications are clearly marked; (3) you do not charge a fee beyond the cost of reproduction; and (4) you do not make more than 100 copies without permission. If you would like to post this material to your web site or make any use other than as defined above, please contact Teaching Resources International

Posted in C. H. Spurgeon |

Glorifying God in the Fire by George Whitefield

January 7, 2010 by ADMIN

Fire my brethren, not only burns and purges but you know it separates one thing from another, and is made use of in chemistry and mechanical business. What could we do without fire? It tries metal to purge it: God Almighty knows, we are often purged more in one hour by a good sound trial, than by a thousand manifestations of his love. It is a fine thing to come purified, to come pardoned out of the furnace of affliction; it is intended to purge us—to separate the precious from the vile; the chaff from the wheat; and God, in order to do this, is pleased to put us into one fire after another, which makes me love to see a good man under afflictions, because it teaches something of the work of God in the heart.

I remember some years ago, when I first preached in the north of England, at Shields near Newcastle. I went into a glass house, and standing very attentive. I saw several masses of burning glass of various forms: the workmen took one piece of glass and put it into one furnace, then he put it into a second, and then into a third: when I asked him, “Why do you put this into so many fires?” he answered, “Oh, sir, the first was not hot enough, nor the second, and therefore we put it into the third, and that will make it transparent.” Taking leave of him in a proper manner, it occurred to me, this would make a good sermon: Oh, thought I, does this man put this glass into one furnace after another, that we may see through it? Oh may God put me into one furnace after another, that my soul may be transparent; that I may see God as he is.

My brethren, we need to be purged; how apt are we to want to go to heaven upon a featherbed; many go lying upon beds of pain and languishing which is the King’s highway thither. You know there are some ways in London called the King’s road, and they are finely graveled, but the King’s road to heaven is strewed with crosses and afflictions. We are all apt to think well of being Christians; it is very pretty talking of being Christians, till we are put into one furnace after another; think it not strange, saith the apostle, concerning the fiery trial which is to try you. What must I do? The grand thing is to learn to glorify God in the fire. Wherefore glorify ye the Lord in the fires.

When do we glorify him? When we endeavor to get such grace from the Lord, that we may not dishonor him when we are under the cross, and therefore we glorify God in the fire when we quietly endure it as a chastisement.

We glorify God in the fire when we bear it patiently. It is a dreadful thing when we are saying with Cain, My punishment is greater than I can bear. But the language of a soul that glorifies God in the fire is this, shall I, Lord, shall I a sinful man, complain for the punishment of my sins? It is a glorious thing when we can say with a good man, one of whose particular friends told me more than once, that when he was racked with pain, and groaning all night with trouble, he would often say, “Lord, I groan; Lord, I groan; Lord, I groan but Lord Jesus, I appeal to thee, thou knowest I do not grumble.” Then we glorify God in the fire, when, though we feel pain and anguish, we at the same time say, Lord, we deserve this and ten thousands times more.

We glorify God in the fire also, when we are really and fully persuaded God will not put us in the fire but for our good, and his own glory.

We glorify God in the fire when we say, Lord don’t let the fire go out till it has purged away all my dross. Then we glorify God when we wish for the good of the fire, and not to have it extinguished; when the soul can say Here I am my God, do with me as seemeth good in thy sight: I know I shall not have one stroke but thou wilt give me a plaister and let me know wherefore thou contendest with me.

We glorify God in the fire when we are content to say, I know not what God does with me now, but I shall know hereafter. Do you tell your children that are five years old the reason of things, no; and do you think God will tell us? What shall this man do? saith the disciples; what is that to thee? saith Christ, follow thou me. You glorify God in the fire, when you are content to walk by faith and not by sight.

You glorify God in the fire when you are not grumbling, but humbly submitting to his will. A humble spirit walks not in sulkiness and stubbornness. There are some spirits too stout; they will not speak. When that awful message was brought to Eli, what does he say? It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good; let my children be killed, whatever be done it is the Lords doing only, Lord, save my soul at last.

We glorify God in the fire when in the midst of the fire we can sing God’s praises. Thus the children of Israel glorified the Lord; the song of the three children in the fiery furnace is a sweet song as are all that are made in the fire. Oh all the works of the Lord, praise and magnify him forever! Then we glorify God in the fire when we rejoice in him, when we not only think but know it best and can thank God for striking us; can thank God for whipping us; can bless God for not letting us alone; thank God for not saying, let him alone: this is to glorify God in the fire. Not only so, saith the apostle, but we glory in tribulation, knowing that tribulation worketh patience.

In a word, we glorify the Lord in the fire when we have in exercise patience, meekness, humility; learning more to distrust ourselves, having a deeper knowledge of our own weakness, and of God’s omnipotence and grace. Happy when we can look back and say, thus have I been enabled to glorify God in the fire.

Happy you that have got into Christ’s fire! Happy you that have found his fires in your souls! I believe many souls have: Oh [may the] Lord Jesus Christ help you to glorify him in whatever fires he shall be pleased to send you, and into what furnaces he shall be pleased to put you: we shall then sing “the church triumphant.” Much better than we sing tonight; we shall see Jesus Christ ready to help us when we are in the furnace. Oh that this thought may make every poor sinner say, by the help of God I will be a Christian; by the help of God if I must burn, it shall be burning with the love of Christ. I will say then, Oh Lord, glorify thyself by snatching me as a brand from the devil’s fire. Oh that this might be the cry of every heart!

Excerpted and edited from George Whitefield’s Sermons, Vol. 1.

The current formatting and editing is copyrighted by Jim Ehrhard, 2000. You are permitted to reproduce and distribute this material in any format provided that: (1) you credit the author; (2) any modifications are clearly marked; (3) you do not charge a fee beyond the cost of reproduction; and (4) you do not make more than 100 copies without permission. If you would like to post this material to your web site or make any use other than as defined above, please contact Teaching Resources International

Posted in George Whitefield |

Beloved, and Yet Afflicted by Charles Spurgeon

January 7, 2010 by ADMIN

“Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is sick .”-John 11:3.

That disciple whom Jesus loved is not at all backward to record that Jesus loved Lazarus too: there are no jealousies among those who are chosen by the Well-beloved. Jesus loved Mary, and Martha, and Lazarus: it is a happy thing where a whole family live in the love of Jesus. They were a favored trio, and yet, as the serpent came into Paradise, so did sorrow enter their quiet household at Bethany. Lazarus was sick. They all felt that if Jesus were there disease would flee at his presence; what then should they do but let him know of their trial? Lazarus was near to death’s door, and so his tender sisters at once reported the fact to Jesus, saying, “Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is sick.” Many a time since then has that same message been sent to our Lord, for in full many a case he has chosen his people in the furnace of affliction. Of the Master it is said, “himself took our infirmities, and bare our sicknesses,” and it is, therefore, no extraordinary thing for the members to be in this matter conformed to their Head.

I. Notice, first, A FACT mentioned in the text: “Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is sick.” The sisters were somewhat astonished that it should be so, for the word “behold” implies a measure of surprise. “We love him, and would make him well directly: thou lovest him, and yet he remains sick, Thou canst heal him with a word, why then is thy loved one sick?” Have not you, dear sick friend, often wondered how your painful or lingering disease could be consistent with your being chosen, and called, and made one with Christ? I dare say this has greatly perplexed you, and yet in very truth it is by no means strange, but a thing to be expected.

We need not be astonished that the man whom the Lord loves is sick, for he is only a man. The love of Jesus does not separate us from the common necessities and infirmities of human life. Men of God are still men. The covenant of grace is not a charter of exemption from consumption, or rheumatism, or asthma. The bodily ills, which come upon us because of our flesh, will attend us to the tomb, for Paul saith, we that are in this body do groan.”

Those whom the Lord loves are the more likely to be sick, since they are under a peculiar discipline. It is written, “Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.” Affliction of some sort is one of the marks of the true-born child of God, and it frequently happens that the trial takes the form of illness. Shall we therefore wonder that we have to take our turn in the sick chamber? If Job, and David, and Hezekiah must each one smart, who are we that we should be amazed because we are in ill-health?

Nor is it remarkable that we are sick if we reflect upon the great benefit which often flows from it to ourselves. I do not know what peculiar improvement may have been wrought in Lazarus, but many a disciple of Jesus would have been of small use if he had not been afflicted. Strong men are apt to be harsh, imperious, and unsympathetic, and therefore they need to be put into the furnace, and melted down. I have known Christian women who would never have been so gentle, tender, wise, experienced, and holy if they had not been mellowed by physical pain. There are fruits in God’s garden as well as in man’s which never ripen till they are bruised.

Young women who are apt to be volatile, conceited, or talkative, are often trained to be full of sweetness and light by sickness after sickness, by which they are taught to sit at Jesus’ feet. Many have been able to say with the psalmist, “It is good for me to have been afflicted, that I might learn thy statutes.” For this reason even such as are highly favored and blessed among women may feel a sword piercing through their hearts. Oftentimes this sickness of the Lord’s loved ones is for the good of others. Lazarus was permitted to be sick and to die, that by his death and resurrection the apostles might be benefited. His sickness was “for the glory of God.” Throughout these nineteen hundred years which have succeeded Lazarus’ sickness all believers have been getting good out of it, and this afternoon we are all the better because he languished and died. The church and the world may derive immense advantage through the sorrows of good men: the careless may be awakened, the doubting may be convinced, the ungodly may be converted, the mourner may be comforted through our testimony in sickness; and if so, would we wish to avoid pain and weakness? Are we not quite willing that our friends should say of us also “Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is sick?”

II. Our text, however, not only records a fact, but mentions A REPORT of that fact: the sisters sent and told Jesus. Let us keep up a constant correspondence with our Lord about everything.

“Sing a hymn to Jesus, when thy heart is faint;

Tell it all to Jesus, comfort or complaint.”

Jesus knows all about us, but it is a great relief to pour out our hearts before him. When John the Baptist’s broken-hearted disciples saw their leader beheaded, “they took up the body, and went and told Jesus.” They could not have done better. In all trouble send a message to Jesus, and do not keep your misery to yourself. In his case there is no need of reserve, there is no fear of his treating you with cold pride, or heartless indifference, or cruel treachery. He is a confidant who never can betray us, a friend who never will refuse us.

There is this fair hope about telling Jesus, that he is sure to support us under it. If you go to Jesus, and ask, “Most gracious Lord, why am I sick? I thought I was useful while in health, and now I can do nothing; why is this?” he may be pleased to show you why, or, it not, he will make you willing to bear his will with patience without knowing why. He can bring his truth to your mind to cheer you, or strengthen your heart by his presence, or send you unexpected comforts, and give you to glory in your afflictions. “Ye people, pour out your heart before him: God is a refuge for us.” Not in vain did Mary and Martha send to tell Jesus, and not in vain do any seek his face. Remember, too, that Jesus may give healing. It would not be wise to live by a supposed faith, and cast off the physician and his medicines, any more than to discharge the butcher, and the tailor, and expect to be fed and clothed by faith; but this would be far better than forgetting the Lord altogether, and trusting to man only. Healing for both body and soul must be sought from God. We make use of medicines, but these can do nothing a part from the Lord, “who healeth all our diseases.”

We may tell Jesus about our aches and pains, and gradual declinings, and hacking coughs. Some persons are afraid to go to God about their health: they pray for the pardon of sin, but dare not ask the Lord to remove a headache: and, yet, surely, if the hairs outside our head are all numbered by God it is not much more of a condescension for him to relieve throbs and pressures inside the head. Our big things must be very little to the great God, and our little things cannot be much less. It is a proof of the greatness of the mind of God that while ruling the heavens and the earth, he is not so absorbed by these great concerns as to be forgetful of the least pain or want of any one of his poor children. We may go to him about our failing breath, for he first gave us lungs and life. We may tell him about the eye which grows dim, and the ear which loses hearing, for he made them both.

We may mention the swollen knee, and the gathering finger, the stiff neck, and the sprained foot, for he made all these our members, redeemed them all, and will raise them all from the grave. Go at once, and say, “Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is sick.”

III. Thirdly, let us notice in the case of Lazarus A RESULT which we should not have expected. No doubt when Mary and Martha sent to tell Jesus they looked to see Lazarus recover as soon as the messenger reached the Master; but they were not gratified. For two days the Lord remained in the same place, and not till he knew that Lazarus was dead did he speak of going to Judaea. This teaches us that Jesus may be informed of our trouble, and yet may act as if he were indifferent to it. We must not expect in every case that prayer for recovery will be answered, for if so, nobody would die who had chick or child, friend or acquaintance to pray for him.

In our prayers for the lives of beloved children of God, we must not forget that there is one prayer which may be crossing ours, for Jesus prays, “Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am, that they may behold my glory.” We pray that they may remain with us, but when we recognize that Jesus wants them above, what can we do but admit his larger claim and say, “Not as I will, but as thou wilt?” In our own case, we may pray the Lord to raise us up, and yet though he loves us he may permit us to grow worse and worse, and at last to die. Hezekiah had fifteen years added to his life, but we may not gain the reprieve of a single day. Never set such store by the life of any one dear to you, or even by your own life, as to be rebellious against the Lord. If you hold the life of any dear one with too tight a hand, you are making a rod for your own back; and if you love your own earthly life too well, you are making a thorny pillow for your dying bed. Children are often idols, and in such cases their too ardent lovers are idolaters. We might as well make a god of clay, and worship it, as the Hindus are said to do, as worship our fellow-creatures, for what are they but clay? Shall dust be so dear to us that we quarrel with our God about it? If our Lord leaves us to suffer, let us not repine. He must do that for us which is kindest and best, for he loves us better than we love ourselves.

Did I hear you say, “Yes, Jesus allowed Lazarus to die, but he raised him up again?” I answer, he is the resurrection and the life to us also. Be comforted concerning the departed, “Thy brother shall rise again,” and all of us whose hope is in Jesus shall partake in our Lord’s resurrection. Not only shall our souls live, but our bodies, too, shall be raised incorruptible.

The grave will serve as a refining pot, and this vile body shall come forth vile no longer. Some Christians are greatly cheered by the thought of living till the Lord comes, and so escaping death. I confess that I think this no great gain, for so far from having any preference over them that are asleep, those who are alive and remain at his coming will miss one point of fellowship, in not dying and rising like their Lord. Beloved, all things are yours, and death is expressly mentioned in the list, therefore do not dread it, but rather “long for evening to undress, that you may rest with God.”

IV. I will close with A QUESTION—”Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus” -does Jesus in a special sense love you? Alas, many sick ones have no evidence of any special love of Jesus towards them, for they have never sought his face, nor trusted in him. Jesus might say to them “I never knew you,” for they have turned their backs upon his blood and his cross. Answer, dear friend, to your own heart this question, “Do you love Jesus?”

If so, you love him because he first loved you. Are you trusting him? If so, that faith of yours is the proof that he has loved you from before the foundation of the world, for faith is the token by which he plights his troth to his beloved.

If Jesus loves you, and you are sick, let all the world see how you glorify God in your sickness. Let friends and nurses see how the beloved of the Lord are cheered and comforted by him. Let your holy resignation astonish them, and set them admiring your Beloved, who is so gracious to you that he makes you happy in pain, and joyful at the gates of the grave. If your religion is worth anything it ought to support you now, and it will compel unbelievers to see that he whom the Lord loveth is in better case when he is sick than the ungodly when full of health and vigor.

If you do not know that Jesus loves you, you lack the brightest star that can cheer the night of sickness. I hope you will not die as you now are, and pass into another world without enjoying the love of Jesus: that would be a terrible calamity indeed. Seek his face at once, and it may he that your present sickness is a part of the way of love by which Jesus would bring you to himself. Lord, heal all these sick ones in soul and in body. Amen.

Edited from a sermon Spurgeon preached before an audience of invalid ladies at Mentone, France, where Spurgeon himself often convalesced.

The current formatting and editing is copyrighted by Jim Ehrhard, 2000. You are permitted to reproduce and distribute this material in any format provided that: (1) you credit the author; (2) any modifications are clearly marked; (3) you do not charge a fee beyond the cost of reproduction; and (4) you do not make more than 100 copies without permission. If you would like to post this material to your web site or make any use other than as defined above, please contact Teaching Resources International

Posted in C. H. Spurgeon |

The Reed and the Bruising by Richard Sibbes

January 7, 2010 by ADMIN

The prophet Isaiah, being lifted up and carried with the wing of a prophetical spirit, passes over all the time between him and the appearing of Jesus Christ in the flesh. Seeing with the eye of prophecy, and with the eye of faith, Christ as present, he presents him, in the name of God, to the spiritual eye of others, in these words:

“Behold my servant, whom I uphold; mine elect, in whom my soul delighteth; I have put my spirit upon him: he shall bring forth judgment to the Gentiles. He shall not cry, nor lift up, nor cause his voice to be heard in the street. A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench: he shall bring forth judgment unto truth” (Isa. 42:13). These words are alleged by Matthew as fulfilled now in Christ (Matt. 12:18-20). In them are propounded, first, the calling of Christ to his office; secondly, the manner in which he carries it out.

CHRIST’S CALLING

God calls him here his servant. Christ was God’s servant in the greatest piece of service that ever was, a chosen and a choice servant who did and suffered all by commission from the Father. In this we may see the sweet love of God to us, in that he counts the work of our salvation by Christ his greatest service, and in that he will put his only beloved Son to that service. He might well prefix it with ‘Behold’ to raise up our thoughts to the highest pitch of attention and admiration. In time of temptation, apprehensive consciences look so much to the present trouble they are in that they need to be roused up to behold him in whom they may find rest for their distressed souls. In temptations, it is safest to behold nothing but Christ the true brazen serpent, the true “Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world” (John 1:29). This saving object has a special influence of comfort to the soul, especially if we look not only on Christ, but upon the Father’s authority and love in him. For in all that Christ did and suffered as Mediator, we must see God in him reconciling the world unto himself (2 Cor. 5:19).

What a support to our faith is this, that God the Father, the party offended by our sins, is so well pleased with the work of redemption! And what a comfort is this, that, seeing God’s love rests on Christ, as well pleased in him, we may gather that he is as well pleased with us, if we be in Christ! For his love rests in a whole Christ, in Christ mystical, as well as Christ natural, because he loves him and us with one love. Let us, therefore, embrace Christ, and in him God’s love, and build our faith safely on such a Savior that is furnished with so high a commission.

See here, for our comfort, a sweet agreement of all three persons: the Father gives a commission to Christ; the Spirit furnishes and sanctifies to it, and Christ himself executes the office of a Mediator. Our redemption is founded upon the joint agreement of all three persons of the Trinity.

HOW CHRIST PURSUES HIS CALLING

This is here said to be done modestly, without making a noise, or raising dust by any pompous coming, as princes are accustomed to do. “His voice shall not be heard.” His voice indeed was heard, but what voice? “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden” (Matt. 11:28). He cried, but how? “Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters” (Isa. 55:1). And as his coming was modest, so it was mild, which is set down in these words: “A bruised reed shall he not break, and smoking flax shall he not quench.”

We see, therefore, that the condition of those with whom he was to deal was that they were bruised reeds and smoking flax; not trees, but reeds; and not whole, but bruised reeds. The church is compared to weak things: to a dove amongst the fowls; to a vine amongst the plants; to sheep amongst the beasts; to a woman, which is the weaker vessel.

God’s children are bruised reeds before their conversion and oftentimes after. Before conversion all (except such as, being brought up in the church, God has delighted to show himself gracious to from their childhood) are bruised reeds, yet in different degrees, as God sees fit. And as there are differences with regard to temperament, gifts and manner of life, so there are in God’s intention to use men in the time to come; for usually he empties such of themselves, and makes them nothing, before he will use them in any great services.

WHAT IT IS TO BE BRUISED

The bruised reed is a man that for the most part is in some misery, as those were that came to Christ for help, and by misery he is brought to see sin as the cause of it, for, whatever pretences sin makes, they come to an end when we are bruised and broken. He is sensible of sin and misery, even unto bruising; and, seeing no help in himself, is carried with restless desire to have supply from another, with some hope, which a little raises him out of himself to Christ, though he dare not claim any present interest of mercy. This spark of hope being opposed by doubtings and fears rising from corruption makes him as smoking flax; so that both these together, a bruised reed and smoking flax, make up the state of a poor distressed man. This is such a one as our Savior Christ terms ‘poor in spirit’ (Matt. 5:3), who sees his wants, and also sees himself indebted to divine justice. He has no means of supply from himself or the creature, and thereupon mourns, and, upon some hope of mercy from the promise and examples of those that have obtained mercy, is stirred up to hunger and thirst after it.

THE GOOD EFFECTS OF BRUISING

This bruising is required before conversion that so the Spirit may make way for himself into the heart by leveling all proud, high thoughts, and that we may understand ourselves to be what indeed we are by nature. We love to wander from ourselves and to be strangers at home, till God bruises us by one cross or other, and then we ‘begin to think,’ and come home to ourselves with the prodigal (Luke 15:17). It is a very hard thing to bring a dull and an evasive heart to cry with feeling for mercy. Our hearts, like criminals, until they be beaten from all evasions, never cry for the mercy of the Judge.

Again, this bruising makes us set a high price upon Christ. Then the gospel becomes the gospel indeed; then the fig-leaves of morality will do us no good. And it makes us more thankful, and, from thankfulness, more fruitful in our lives; for what makes many so cold and barren, but that bruising for sin never endeared God’s grace to them?

Likewise this dealing of God establishes us the more in his ways, having had knocks and bruisings in our own ways. This is often the cause of relapses and apostasy, because men never smarted for sin at the first; they were not long enough under the lash of the law. Hence this inferior work of the Spirit in bringing down high thoughts (2 Cor. 10:5) is necessary before conversion. And, for the most part, the Holy Spirit, to further the work of conviction, joins with it some affliction, which, when sanctified, has a healing and purging power.

After conversion, we need bruising so that reeds may know themselves to be reeds, and not oaks. Even reeds need bruising, by reason of the remainder of pride in our nature, and to let us see that we live by mercy. Such bruising may help weaker Christians not to be too much discouraged, when they see stronger ones shaken and bruised. Thus Peter was bruised when he wept bitterly (Matt. 26:75). This reed, till he met with this bruise, had more wind in him than pith when he said, “Though all forsake thee, I will not” (Matt. 26:33). The people of God cannot be without these examples. The heroic deeds of those great worthies do not comfort the church so much as their falls and bruises do. Thus David was bruised until he came to a free confession, without guile of spirit (Psa. 32:3-5); nay, his sorrows did rise in his own feeling unto the exquisite pain of breaking of bones (Psa. 51:8). Thus Hezekiah complains that God had ‘broken his bones’ as a lion (Isa. 38:13). Thus the chosen vessel Paul needed the messenger of Satan to buffet him lest he should be lifted up above measure (2 Cor. 12:7).

Hence we learn that we must not pass too harsh judgment upon ourselves or others when God exercises us with bruising upon bruising. There must be a conformity to our head, Christ, who ‘was bruised for us’ (Isa. 53:5) that we may know how much we are bound unto him.

Ungodly spirits ignorant of God’s Ways in bringing his children to heaven, censure broken-hearted Christian as miserable persons, whereas God is doing a gracious, good work in them. It is no easy matter to bring a man from nature to grace, and from grace to glory, so unyielding and intractable are our hearts.

Edited and excerpted from The Bruised Reed, first published in 1630.

The current formatting and editing is copyrighted by Jim Ehrhard, 2000. You are permitted to reproduce and distribute this material in any format provided that: (1) you credit the author; (2) any modifications are clearly marked; (3) you do not charge a fee beyond the cost of reproduction; and (4) you do not make more than 100 copies without permission. If you would like to post this material to your web site or make any use other than as defined above, please contact Teaching Resources International

Posted in Richard Sibbes |

The Consolation by Horatius Bonar

January 7, 2010 by ADMIN

“TO BRING MANY SONS UNTO GLORY,” was the end for which the Son of God took flesh and died. This was no common, no inferior object. So vast and worthy did Jehovah deem it that it pleased Him for the attaining of it to “make the captain of their salvation perfect through suffering” (Heb. 2:10). It was an object worthy of the God “for whom are all things, and by whom are all things.” It was an object glorious enough to render it “becoming” in Him to make Jesus pass through suffering and death, and to justify the Father in not sparing His only begotten Son.

They for whom God has done all this must be very precious in His sight. He must be much in earnest indeed to bless them and to take them to be with Him forever. As He so delighted in Enoch that He could no longer bear the separation and the distance, but took him to be with Him without tasting death, and long ere he had run the common race of man, so with His saints. He is making haste to bring them to glory, for the day of absence has been long.

The glory which He has in reserve for them must be surpassing glory, for it was to bring them to it that He was willing to bruise His Son and to put Him to grief. Eye has not seen it; ear has not heard it; it is far beyond what we can comprehend, yet it is all reality. God is not ashamed to be called our God because He has prepared for us a city. Were that city not worthy of Himself He would be ashamed to have called Himself by the name of “our God.” For that implies large blessings on His part, and it leads to large expectations on ours-expectations which He cannot disappoint.

He did not count this glory to be bought for us at too dear a rate, even though the price was the sufferings of His only begotten Son. If, then, God thus estimated the glory to which we were brought, shall not we do the same? If He thought it worth all the sufferings of His Son, shall we not think it worth our poor sufferings here? Shall we not say, “I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us” (Rom. 8:18).

This is consolation. It is that which most naturally occurs to us, and it is both scriptural and effectual. This is what is usually presented to the afflicted saint, and it is what he feels to be very precious and suitable. But though the most common and the most natural consolation, it is by no means the only one. Let us suggest a few others.

1. Jesus weeps with us. “In all our affliction he is afflicted.” He knows our sorrows, for He has passed through them all, and therefore He feels for us. He is touched with the feeling of our griefs as well as of our infirmities. Man—very man—man all over, even in His glory, He enters most fully into the fellowship of our burdens and sorrows whatever these may be, for there is not one which He did not taste when He “dwelt among us” here. His is sympathy, deep, real and true. It is no fiction, no fancy. We do not see His tears falling upon us; neither do we clasp His hand nor feel the beating of His heart against ours. But still His communion with us in suffering is a reality. We may not understand how it can be. But He understands it; and He can make us feel it, whether we can comprehend it or not.

2. We are made partakers of Christ’s sufferings. What honor is this! We are baptized with His baptism; we drink of His cup, we are made like Him in sorrow as we shall hereafter be made like Him in joy! How soothing and sustaining! If reproach, and shame, and poverty are ours, let us remember that they were His also. If we have to go down to Gethsemane, or up to the cross, let us think that He was there before us. It is when keeping our eye on this that we are brought somewhat to realize the feeling of the apostle when he “rejoiced in his sufferings” for the Church, as “filling up that which is behind (literally the leavings of Christ’s sufferings) of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh for his body’s sake, which is the church” (Col. 1: 24). To be treated better than Christ, is neither what a thoughtful soul could expect,, nor what a loving heart could desire.

3. Suffering is the family lot. This we have already dwelt upon, and we refer to it simply to present it more prominently as a consolation. The path of sorrow is no unfrequented way. All the saints have trodden it. We can trace their footprints there. It is comforting, nay, it is cheering to keep this in mind. Were we cast fettered into some low dungeon, would it not be consolation to know that many a martyr had been there before us; would it not be cheering to read their names written with their own hands all round the ancient walls? Such is the solace we may extract from all suffering, for the furnace into which we are cast has been consecrated by many a saint already.

4. All things work together for our good. Nothing is unsuitable, unseasonable or unprofitable. Out of all evil comes good to the saints; out of all darkness comes light; out of all sorrow comes joy. Each pang, sharp or slight, is doing its work—the very work which God designs, the very work which we could not do without. The forces of earth, unless they all bear in one line, or nearly so, tend to counteract each other and arrest the common impulse. But the forces which God brings to bear upon us in affliction are all directly and necessarily impulsive. Come from what quarter they may, or from opposite quarters all at once, they still bear us successfully forward. “All things work together for good.” “All things are ours” (1 Cor. 3:21).

5. There is special grace for every trial. As trials bring to light the weakness that is in us, so they draw out the strength of God to meet that weakness—new resources of strength and grace which we never knew before. In affliction, we may be quite sure of learning something more of God than we were acquainted with before, for it is just in order to furnish an opportunity for bringing out this and showing it to us, that He sends the trial. How little should we know of Him were it not for sorrow! What fullness of blessing comes out to us, what riches of love are spread out before us in the dark and cloudy day!

6. Affliction is our fullest opportunity for glorifying God. It is on earth that He expects to get glory from us, glory such as angels cannot give, glory such as we shall not be able to give hereafter. It is here that we are to preach to angels; it is here we are to show to them what a glorious God is ours. Our whole life below is given us for this. But it is especially in sorrow and under infirmity that God looks for glory from us. What a God-honoring thing to see a struggling, sorrowing child of earth cleave fast to God, calmly trusting in Him, happy and at rest in the midst of storm and suffering! What a spectacle for the hosts of heaven! Now is the time for the saints to give glory to the Lord their God. Let them prize affliction as the very time and opportunity for doing so most of all. Let them use such a season well. And what consolation to think that affliction is really such a season! Surely it is one which an angel might covet, which an archangel would gladly stoop to were that possible! They can glorify God much in heaven amid its glory and blessedness, but not half so much as we can on earth amid suffering and shame!

7. We are getting rid of sin. Each pain is a nail driven through some sin, another blow inflicted on the flesh, destroying the very power of sinning. As we entered on our first life, sin fastened its chain upon us, and link after link twined itself about us. When we commenced our second and better life these began one by one to untwine themselves. Affliction untwines them faster; and though it is not till we are laid on our death-bed, or till Jesus come, that the last link of earth is thoroughly untwined or broken, still it is consolation to think that each successive trial is helping on the blessed consummation. A lifetime’s sufferings would not be too long or too heavy, if by means of them we got rid of sin and sinful ways and tempers, and became more holy, more heavenly, more conformable to the image of the Lord. God drives affliction like a wedge between us and the world; or He sends it like a ploughshare right across our most cherished hopes and brightest prospects, till He thoroughly wearies us of all below. “He hath made me weary,” said Job. Nor do we wonder at the complaint. He might well be weary. So with us. God makes us weary too, weary all over-thoroughly weary. We get weary of a present evil world, weary of self, weary of sin, weary of suffering, weary of this mortal body, weary of these vile hearts, weary of earth-weary of all but Jesus! Of Him no trial can weary us. Suffering only endears Him the more. Blessed suffering that makes Him appear more precious and the world more vile; that brings Him nearer to our hearts and thrusts the world away!

8. We are preparing for usefulness while here. We have but a few years below, and it concerns us much that these should be useful years. We have but one life, and it must be laid out for God. But we need preparation for usefulness. We need a thorough breaking down, a thorough emptying, a thorough bruising. God cannot trust us with success till we are thus laid low. We are not fit to receive it; nor would He get the glory. Therefore He sends sore and heavy trials in order to make us vessels fit for the Master’s use. And oftentimes we see that the heaviest trials are forerunners of our greatest usefulness. When we are entirely prostrated and crushed, then it is safe to grant us success, for God gets all the glory. And what wonders has God often done by bruised reeds! It is the bruised reed that is most often the instrument in His hand for working His mighty signs and wonders. What consolation is this! Suffering is stripped of half its bitterness if it thus brings with it a double portion of the Spirit, and fits for double usefulness on earth.

9. We have the Holy Spirit as our Comforter. He is mighty to comfort as well as to sanctify. His name is ‘the Comforter.’ His office is to console. And in the discharge of this office He puts forth His power, not only mediately and indirectly through the Word, but immediately and directly upon the soul, sustaining and strengthening it when fainting and troubled. It is consolation unspeakable to know that there is a hand, a divine and omnipotent hand, laid upon our wounded spirit, not only upholding it, but drying up as it were the very springs of grief within. In the day of oppressive sorrow, when bowed down to the dust, what is there that we feel so much we need as a hand that can come into close and direct contact with our souls to lift them up and strengthen them? For it is here that human consolation fails. Friends can say much to soothe us, but they cannot lay their finger upon the hidden seat of sorrow. They can put their arm around the fainting body, but not around the fainting spirit. To that they have only distant and indirect access. But here the heavenly aid comes in. The Spirit throws around us the everlasting arms, and we are invincibly upheld. We cannot sink, for He sustains, He comforts, He cheers. And who knows so well as He how to sustain, and comfort, and cheer?

10. The time is short. We have not a pilgrimage like Seth’s or Noah’s, or even like Abraham’s to pass through. Ours is but a hand-breadth in comparison with theirs. We have not many days to suffer, nor many nights to watch, even though our whole life were filled with weary days and sleepless nights. “Our light affliction is but for a moment.” And besides the briefness of our earthly span, we know that the coming of the Lord draws nigh. This is consolation, for it tells not only of the end of our tribulation, but of the beginning of our triumph; and not only of our individual rest from trouble, but of the rest and deliverance of the whole Church together. For then the whole “body of Christ,” waking or sleeping, shall be glorified with their glorified Lord, and everlasting joy shall be upon their heads.

In the day of bereavement, the day of mourning over those who have fallen asleep in Jesus, this consolation is especially precious. Them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him. And if the Lord be near, the time of reunion may not be far off. They that lie down at evening have a whole night’s slumber before them; but they who lie down towards morning have, it may be, but an hour or less till the dawn awakes them. So with the dead in Christ in these last days. They will not have long to sleep, for it is now the fourth watch of the night, and the day-star is preparing to arise. What consolation! How it soothes the pain of parting! How it cheers the wounded spirit! “Awake, and sing, ye that dwell in dust,” is now our watchword every day.

11. All is love. Affliction is the expression of paternal love. It is from the deepest recess of the fountain of love that sorrow flows down to us. And love cannot wrong us. It blesses, but cannot curse. Its utterances and actions are all of peace and gladness. It wants a larger vessel into which to empty itself, and a deeper channel through which to flow. That is all. It seeks to make us more susceptible of kindness, and then to pour that kindness in. Yes, love is the true, the one origin of the sharpest stroke that ever fell upon a bleeding heart. The truth is, there is no other way of accounting for affliction but this. Anger will not account for it, forgetfulness will not account for it, chance will not account for it. No. It is simply impossible to trace it to any cause but love. Admit this as its spring, and all its harmonious, comely, perfect. Deny it, and all is confusion, cruelty, and darkness. Chastising love is the most faithful, pure, and true of all. Let this be our consolation.

Beloved, “it is well.” It is good to be afflicted. Our days of suffering here we call days of darkness; hereafter they will seem our brightest and fairest. In eternity we shall praise Jehovah most of all for our sorrows and tears. So blessed shall they then seem to us that we shall wonder how we could ever weep and sigh. We shall then know how utterly unworthy we were of all this grace. We did not deserve anything, but least of all to be afflicted. Our joys were all of grace—pure grace—much more our sorrows. It is out of the “exceeding riches of the grace of God” that trial comes.

Taken from When God’s Children Suffer (published by Keats Publishing, New Canaan, CT) an updated reprint of Bonar’s Night of Weeping.

The current formatting and editing is copyrighted by Jim Ehrhard, 2000. You are permitted to reproduce and distribute this material in any format provided that: (1) you credit the author; (2) any modifications are clearly marked; (3) you do not charge a fee beyond the cost of reproduction; and (4) you do not make more than 100 copies without permission. If you would like to post this material to your web site or make any use other than as defined above, please contact Teaching Resources International

Posted in Horatius Bonar |

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