The Spurgeon Series 1857 & 1858. Charles H. Spurgeon

man who has the most sins forgiven: he owes much, therefore he will love much.” This is the reason why God often selects the worst of men to make them his. An old writer says, “In the carvings of heaven were made out of knots; the temple of God, the king of heaven, is a cedar one, but the cedars were all knotty trees before he cut them down.” He chose the worst, that he might display his workmanship and his skill, to make to himself a name; as it is written, “It shall be to me for a name, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.” Now, dear hearers, of whatever class you are, here is something I have to offer well worthy of your consideration, namely — that if saved, we are saved for the sake of God, for his name’s sake, and not for our own.

      16. Now this puts all men on the same level with regard to salvation. Suppose that in coming into this garden, the rule had been that every one should have made mention of my name as the key for admittance; the law is, that no man is to be admitted for his rank or title, but only by the use of a certain name. Up comes a lord; he makes use of the name and comes in: up comes a beggar, all in patches, he makes use of the name — the law says it is only the use of the name that will admit you — he makes use of it and he enters, for there is no distinction. So, my lady, if you come, with all your morality, you must make use of his name: if you come, poor filthy inhabitant of a cellar or an attic, and make use of his name, the doors will fly wide open, for there is salvation for every one who makes mention of the name of Christ, and for no one else. This pulls down the pride of the moralist, abases the self-exaltation of the self-righteous, and puts us all, as guilty sinners, on an equal footing before God, to receive mercy at his hands, “For his name’s sake,” and for that reason alone.

      17. IV. I have detained you too long; let me close by noticing obstacles removed, in the word “nevertheless.” I shall do that in somewhat of an interesting form, by way of a parable.

      18. Once upon a time, Mercy sat upon her snow white throne, surrounded by the troops of love. A sinner was brought before her, whom Mercy intended to save. The herald blew the trumpet, and after three blasts from it; with a loud voice, he said, “Oh heaven, and earth, and hell, I summon you today to come before the throne of Mercy, to tell why this sinner should not be saved.” There stood the sinner trembling with fear; he knew that there were multitudes of opponents, who would press into the hall of Mercy, and with eyes full of wrath, would say “He must not, and he shall not escape; he must be lost!” The trumpet was blown, and Mercy sat placidly on her throne, until there stepped in one with a fiery countenance; his head was covered with light, he spoke with a voice like thunder, and out of his eyes flashed lightning “Who are you?” said Mercy. He replied, “I am Law; the law of God.” “And what have you to say?” “I have this to say,” and he lifted up a stony tablet, written on both sides; “these ten commands this wretch has broken. My demand is blood; for it is written, ‘The soul that sins it shall die.’ Either he dies, or justice must.” The wretch trembles, his knees knock together, the marrow of his bones melts within him, as if they were ice dissolved by fire, and he shakes with very fright. Already he thought he saw the thunderbolt launched at him, he saw the lightning penetrate into his soul, hell yawned before him in his imagination, and he thought himself cast away for ever. But Mercy smiled, and said, “Law, I will answer you. This wretch deserves to die; justice demands that he should perish — I award you your claim.” And oh! how the sinner trembles. “But there is one there who has come with me today, my king, my Lord; his name is Jesus; he will tell you how the debt can be paid, and the sinner can go free.” Then Jesus spoke, and said, “Oh Mercy, I will do your bidding. Take me Law, put me in a garden; make me sweat drops of blood; then nail me to a tree; scourge my back before you put me to death; hang me on the cross; let blood run from my hands and feet; let me descend into the grave; let me pay all the sinner owes; I will die in his place.” And the Law went out and scourged the Saviour, nailed him to the cross, and coming back with his face all bright with satisfaction, stood again at the throne of Mercy, and Mercy said, “Law, what have you now to say?” “Nothing,” he said, “fair angel, nothing.” “What! not one of these commands against him?” “No, not one. Jesus, his substitute, has kept them all — has paid the penalty for his disobedience; and now, instead of his condemnation, I demand as a debt of justice that he be acquitted.” “Stand here,” said Mercy, “sit on my throne; you and I together will now send forth another summons.” The trumpet rang again. “Come here, all you who have anything to say against this sinner, why he should not be acquitted”; and up comes another — one who often troubled the sinner, one who had a voice not as loud as that of the Law, but still piercing and sharp — a voice whose whispers were like the cuttings of a dagger. “Who are you?” says Mercy. “I am Conscience; this sinner must be punished; he has done so much against the law of God that he must be punished; I demand it; and I will give him no rest until he is punished, nor even then, for I will follow him even to the grave, and persecute him after death with pangs unutterable.” “No,” said Mercy, “Hear me,” and while he paused for a moment, she took a bunch of hyssop and sprinkled Conscience with the blood, saying “Hear me, Conscience, ‘The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, cleanses us from all sin.’ Now what have you to say?” “No,” said Conscience, “nothing.

      Covered is his unrighteousness;

      From condemnation he is free.

      Henceforth I will not grieve him; I will be a good conscience to him, through the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ.” The trumpet rang a third time, and growling from the innermost vaults, there came up a grim black fiend, with hate in his eyes, and hellish majesty on his brows. He is asked, “Have you anything against that sinner?” “Yes,” he said, “I have; he has made a league with hell, and a covenant with the grave, and here it is signed with his own hand. He asked God to destroy his soul in a drunken fit, and vowed he would never turn to God; see, here is his covenant with hell!” “Let us look at it,” said Mercy; and it was handed up, while the grim fiend looked at the sinner, and pierced him through with his black looks. “Ah! but,” said Mercy, “this man had no right to sign the deed; a man must not sign away another’s property. This man was bought and paid for long beforehand; he is not his own; the covenant with death is disannulled, and the league with hell is torn in pieces. Go your way Satan.” “No,” he said, howling again, “I have something else to say: that man was always my friend; he always listened to my insinuations; he scoffed at the gospel; he scorned the majesty of heaven; is he to be pardoned, while I return to my hellish den, for ever to bear the penalty of guilt?” Mercy said, “Away with you, fiend; these things he did in the days of his unregeneracy; but this word ‘nevertheless’ blots them out. Go to your hell; take this for another lash upon yourself — the sinner shall be pardoned, but you — never, treacherous fiend!” And then Mercy, smilingly turning to the sinner, said, “Sinner, the trumpet must be blown for the last time!” Again it was blown, and no one answered. Then the sinner stood up, and Mercy said, “Sinner ask yourself the question — ask of heaven, of earth, of hell — whether anyone can condemn you?” And the sinner stood up, and with a bold loud voice said, “Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect?” And he looked into hell, and Satan lay there, biting his iron bonds; and he looked on earth, and earth was silent; and in the majesty of faith the sinner did even climb to heaven itself, and he said, “Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect? God?” And the answer came, “No; he justifies.” “Christ?” Sweetly it was whispered, “No; he died.” Then turning around, the sinner joyfully exclaimed, “Who shall separate me from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” And the once condemned sinner came back to Mercy; prostrate at her feet he lay, and vowed henceforth to be hers for ever, if she would keep him to the end, and make him what she would desire him to be. Then no longer did the trumpet ring, but angels rejoiced, and heaven was glad, for the sinner was saved.

      19. Thus, you see, I have what is called, dramatised the thing; but I do not care what it is called; it is a way of arresting the ear, when nothing else will. “Nevertheless”; there is the obstruction taken away! Sinner, whatever is the “nevertheless,” it shall never-the-less abate the Saviour’s love; not-the-less shall it ever make it, but it shall remain the same.

      Come, guilty soul, and flee away

      To