The Spurgeon Series 1859 & 1860. Charles H. Spurgeon

It cannot be because there is anything good in you, for now you deserve to die, and if he spares you it must be sovereign love and sovereign grace.

      15. I will just use one other illustration, and then, I think I shall have made the text clear enough. There is not so much difference between black and a darker shade of black as there is between pure white and black. Everyone can see that. Then there is not so much difference between man and the devil as there is between God and man. God is perfection; we are black with sin. The devil is only a darker shade of black; and great as may be the difference between our sin and the sin of Satan, yet it is not as great as the difference between the perfection of God and the imperfection of man. Now, imagine for a minute that somewhere in Africa there should be a tribe of demons living, that you and I had it in our power to save these demons from some threatened wrath which must overtake them. If you or I should go there and die to save those demons, what could be our motive? From what we know of the character of a devil, the only motive that could make us do that must be love. There could not be any other. It must be simply because we had such big hearts that we could even embrace fiends within them. Well, now, there is not so much difference between man and the devil as between God and man. If, then, the only motive that could make men save a devil must be man’s love, does it not follow with irresistible force, that the only motive that could lead God to save men must be God’s own love. At any rate, if that reason is not cogent the fact is indisputable — “Not for your sakes do I do this, oh house of Israel.” God sees us, abandoned, evil, wicked, and deserving his wrath; if he saves us, it is his boundless, fathomless love that leads him to do it — nothing whatever in us.

      16. III. And now, having thus preached this doctrine, and enforced it, I come to a very solemn PRACTICAL APPLICATION. And here may God the Holy Spirit help me labour with your hearts!

      17. First, since this doctrine is true, how humble a Christian man ought to be. If you are saved, you have had nothing to do with it; God has done it. If you are saved, you have not deserved it. It is undeserved mercy which you have received. I have sometimes been delighted when I have seen the gratitude of abandoned characters for any who have assisted them. I remember visiting a house of refuge. There was a poor girl there who had fallen into sin for a long time, and when she found herself kindly addressed and recognised by society, and saw a Christian minister longing after her soul’s good, it broke her heart. What should a man of God care about her? she was so vile. How could it be that a Christian should speak to her? Ah! but how much more should that feeling rise in our hearts? My God! I have rebelled against you, and yet you have loved me, unworthy me! How can it be? I cannot lift myself up with pride, I must bow down before you in speechless gratitude. Remember, my dear brethren, that not only is the mercy which you and I have received undeserved, but it was unasked for. It is true you sought for mercy, but not until mercy first sought you. It is true you prayed, but not until free grace made you pray. You would have been, to this day, hardened in heart, without God, and without Christ, had not free grace saved you. Can you be proud then? — proud of mercy which, if I may use the term, has been forced upon you? — proud of grace which has been given to you against your will, until your will was changed by sovereign grace? And think again. All the mercy you have you once refused. Christ sups with you; do not be proud of his company. Remember, there was a day when he knocked, and you refused — when he came to the door and said, “My head is wet with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night; open to me, my beloved”; and you barred it in his face and would not let him enter. Do not be proud, then, of what you have, when you remember that you once rejected him. Does God embrace you in his arms of love? Remember, once you lifted up your hand of rebellion against him. Is your name written in his book? Ah! there was a time when, if it had been in your power, you would have erased the sacred lines that contained your own salvation. Can we, dare we, lift up our wicked head with pride, when all these things should make us hang our heads down in the deepest humility? That is one lesson: let us learn another.

      18. This doctrine is true, and therefore it should be a subject of the greatest gratitude. When meditating upon this text yesterday, the effect it had upon me was one of transport and joy. Oh! I thought, upon what other condition could I have been saved? And I looked back upon my past life; I saw myself piously trained and educated, but revolting against all that. I saw a mother’s tears shed over me in vain, and a father’s admonition lost upon me, and yet I found myself saved by grace, and I could only say, “Lord, I bless you that it is by grace, for if it had been by merit I would never have been saved. If you had waited until there was something good in me, you would have waited until I sank into the hopeless perdition of hell, for there never would have been good in man, unless you had first put it there.” And then I thought immediately, “Oh! how I could go and preach that to the poor sinner!” Ah! let me try if I cannot. Oh sinner! you say you dare not come to Christ because you have nothing to recommend you. He does not want anything to recommend you; he will not save you, if you have anything to recommend you, for his says, “Not for your sake do I do this.” Go to Christ with earrings in your ears, and jewels upon you; wash your face, and array yourself with gold and silver, and go before him and say, “Lord, save me; I have washed myself and clothed myself; save me!” “Begone! Not for your sakes will I do this.” Go to him again, and say, “Lord, I have put a rope around my neck, and sackcloth on my loins; see how repentant I am, see how I feel my need; now save me!” “No,” he says, “I would not save you on account of your flaunting robes, and now I will not save you because of your rags; I will save you for nothing about you; if I do save you, it will be from something in my heart, not from anything you feel. Begone!” But if today you go to Christ and say, “Lord Jesus, there is no reason in the world why I should be saved — there is one in heaven; Lord, I cannot urge any plea, I deserve to be lost, I have no excuse to make for all my sins, no apology to offer; Lord, I deserve it, and there is nothing in me why I should be saved, for if you would save me I should make only a poor Christian, after all; I fear that my future works will be no honour to you — I wish they could be, but your grace must make them good, or else they will still be bad. But, Lord, though I have nothing to bring, and nothing to say for myself, I do say this: I have heard that you have come into the world to save sinners — oh Lord, save me!

      I the chief of sinners am.

      I confess I do not feel this as I ought, I do not mourn it as I ought; I have no repentance to recommend me; no, Lord, I have no faith to recommend me either, for I do not believe your promise as I ought; but oh! I cling to this text. Lord, you have said you will not do it for my sake. I thank you that you have said that. You could not do it for my sake, for I have no reason why you should. Lord, I claim your gracious promise. ‘Be merciful to me, a sinner.’ ” Ah! you good people, this doctrine does not suit some of you; it is too humbling, is it not? You who have faithfully attended your churches regularly, and been to meetings so piously, you who never broke the Sabbath, or never swore an oath, or did anything wrong, this does not suit you. You say it will do very well to preach to prostitutes, and drunkards, and swearers, but it will not suit such good people as we are. Ah! well, this is your text — “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” You are “whole” — you are; you “do not need a physician, but those who are sick.” Go your way. Christ did not came to save such as you are. You think you can save yourselves. Do it, and perish in the attempt. But I feel that the same gospel that suits a prostitute suits me, and that that free grace which saved Saul of Tarsus must save me, or else I can never be saved. Come, let us all go together. We are all guilty — some more, some less, but all hopelessly guilty. Let us go together to the footstool of his mercy, and though we dare not look up, let us lie there in the dust, and sigh out again, “Lord have mercy upon us for whom Jesus died.”

      Just as I am, without one plea,

      But that your blood was shed for me,

      And that you bid me come to thee,

      Oh Lamb of God, I come, I come.

      Sinner, come now; come now, I beseech you; I entreat you, come now. Oh Spirit of the living God, draw them now! Let these feeble weak words be the means of drawing souls to Christ. Will you reject my Master again? Will you go out of this house hardened once more? You may never again have such feelings as those which are aroused