The Spurgeon Series 1857 & 1858. Charles H. Spurgeon

their own conscience was a killing by the hand of God, whereas it was a deeper, and better, and surer, and more entire work that they needed, than what they received. Let us take heed, my brethren, that we do not put too much trust in our experiences, and take too much for granted while it is not yet proven in our beginnings; let us often go back and begin again; let us often go to Christ with the old cry —

      Nothing in my hands I bring,

      Simply to your cross I cling.

      For remember that these bad beginnings have had a great effect in making a man fruitless.

      16. 3. And again, thirdly, what is God’s estimation of fruitless professors? I shall not ask you their own; for there are many men who are professors of religion, with whom you might make your fortune very speedily if you could buy them at your price and sell them at their own. There are many, too, that have a very good opinion of themselves, which they have gained from the church. The minister thinks well of them; the church thinks well of them; they are respectable people; it is so nice to have them come, it helps the cause so, to see such respectable people sitting in the pews! Really, I do think he would do for a deacon! Everyone thinks well of him; everyone praises him. Now we have nothing to do with this kind of opinion tonight; our business is with Gods opinion of such a man. And God’s opinion of a man who makes a profession without being sincere, is this — that he is the most useless thing in the world. And now let me try to prove it. Is there anyone that will prove that this man is of any use at all? I will ask the church: — Here is a man that brings forth no fruit, and has only a profession. Members of the church, what is the use of this man? Will he comfort any of you in your distress? Will he hold up the pastor’s hands in prayer, when he is weary? Will he lead the troops to battle? Will he be of any service to you? I see you unanimously lift up your hands, and say, “The man is of no use to us whatever, if he brings forth no fruit; if his life is not consistent with his profession; strike his name off the church roll; let him go; he is of no use.” Where has he gone? He has gone to the world. Bring the worldling up. What do you think of this man? He makes a profession of religion. Is he of any use to you? “No,” they say, “we do not want such a fellow as that. The man is Jack-of-both-sides; he is sometimes a professor of religion, and sometimes a sinner in the world. We will have nothing to do with him; turn him out of our company.” Where shall we sell him, then? How shall we dispose of him? He seems to be of no use either to the church or the world. Is he of any use to his family? Ask his oldest son. “John, is your father any good to you?” “No, sir; not at all. He used to pray the Lord to save us with seeming earnestness, and rise from his knees to give vent to his temper. Many a violent blow has he given to me without any reasonable provocation. He was always a passionate man. He used to go to chapel on Sunday and take us with him; and then we know what he used to do on Monday; he would get drunk, or swear. A deal of use he ever was to me! He made me an infidel, sir!” Ask his wife. “Well, what do you think of this good husband of yours? He has long made a profession of religion.” “Ah! sir it is not for me to say a word about my husband; but he has made me a miserable woman. I think I would have joined your church long ago, if it had not been for his miserable inconsistencies. But really he has grieved my heart; he has always been a stumblingblock to me; and what to do with him I do not know.” Well, Jane, we will have you come out of the kitchen. “What do you think of your employer; he makes a profession of religion, yet does not live a righteous life. What do you think of him?” “Well, I did think that Christians were a good sort of people, and that I should like to live with them; but if this is Christianity, sir, I will take five pounds a year less to live with a worldly man; that’s all I can say.” Well, what is the use of him? I suppose he does something in business. He is a grand professor. He keeps a shop; everyone thinks that he is a most respectable man. Has he not given a hundred pounds just now to the building of a new church? Is he not always known to subscribe liberally to ragged schools? We will ask his men. What do you think of your employer? “What do we think of him? Why, we would think a great deal more of him if he would give us a half-crown a week more wages; for he is the worst paymaster in the parish.” “That is nothing perhaps. But what do you think of him?” “Why, that he is an unutterable hypocrite! Some of us did go to a place of worship, but we are honest, and we would rather stay away than go with such a miserable hypocrite.” I am describing real cases and not fictions. I need not to go farther than between this and London Bridge to knock at the door and wake them up, some of them. What is the good of such professors? If they would speak honestly, and say, “I am no Christian,” there would be some sense in it. For if Baal is God, let Baal be served; and if the world is worth serving, let a man serve it whole heartedly, and let him get the credit of candour — not cheating the devil. But if God is God, and a man lives in sin, and talk about grace, then of what use is he? God himself will disown him. Ask him if this man has been of any use, and he replies, “No, of no use whatever.” The vine is of no use unless it brings forth fruit; and this man, making a profession, is worse than worthless, because he does not live up to it. My dear friends, I would not say an extravagant thing, but I will say this very coolly: — if any of you who make a profession of religion are deceiving others, by not living up to it, I do request you — and I say it advisedly — I do request you to give up your profession, unless God gives you grace to live up to it. Do not, I beseech you, halt between two opinions; if God is God serve him, and do it thoroughly; do not tell lies about it. If Baal is God, if he is a nice master, if you would like to serve him, and win his wages, serve him; but do not mix the two together; be one thing, or else the other. Renounce your profession, and serve the devil thoroughly, or else keep your profession, and serve God with all your heart — one thing, or else the other. I solemnly exhort you to choose which you will have, but never think that you can keep both; for “no man can serve two masters.” “You cannot serve God and mammon.”

      17. 4. And now let me close up by mentioning what is to become of this fruitless tree? We are told it is to be devoured in the fire. When an old vine is pulled off the wall, after having brought forth no fruit, what becomes of it? You know, there are a lot of weeds raked up in a corner of the garden, and the gardener, without taking any notice of it, just throws the vine on the heap of weeds, and it is burned up. If it were any other kind of tree he would at least reserve it for chopping up to make a fire within the master’s house, but this is such an ignominious thing, he throws it away in the corner, and burns it up with the weeds. If it was a stout old oak, it might have the funeral of the yule log, with honour in its burning, and brightness in its flame; but the fruitless vine is treated with contempt, and left to smoulder with the weeds, the refuse, and the rubbish. It is a miserable thing. Just so with professors; all men who do not love God must perish. But those who profess to love him, and do not, shall perish with singular ignominy. “They shall not come into the sepulchres of the kings.” Something like that ancient king, of whom it was said, “He shall be buried with the burial of an ass, drawn and cast forth beyond the gates of Jerusalem.” The damnation of a professor will be the most horrible and ignominious sight that ever hell itself has seen! When Satan fell from heaven, with his black Satanic malice against God, there was a kind of grandeur in his devilry; there was an awful, terrific sublimity in his damnation; and when a great blasphemer and a hard swearer shall be sent at last to perdition, there shall be something of sublimity in it, because he has been consistent with his profession. But when a professor of religion finds himself in hell, it shall be the most miserable, contemptible, and yet terrible mode of damnation by which men were ever damned. I think I see honest blasphemers lifting themselves from their chains of fire, and hissing between their teeth at the minister who comes there, after having been a deceiver, — “Aha! aha! aha! are you here with us? You did warn us of our drunkenness, and tell us of our curse; ah! are you come into the drunkard’s hell yourself?” “Pshaw!” says another, “that is your strict Pharisee. Ah! I remember how he told me one night that I would perish, unless I made a profession of religion. Take that, sir!” and he spits upon him. “You are a loathsome thing. I perished; but I served my master well. You — you pretended to serve God, and yet you are a sneaking hypocrite!” Another says, yelling from the corner of the pit, “Let us have a Methodist hymn, sir; quote a promise from the Bible; tell us about election. Let us have a little of your fine preaching now.” And around hell there goes the hiss, and the “aha! aha! aha!” and the yell of spitefulness and scorn upon the man