The Spurgeon Series 1859 & 1860. Charles H. Spurgeon

battle. The battle of Christian with Apollyon lasted three hours; but the battle of Christian with himself lasted all the way from the Wicket Gate to the Jordan River. The enemy within can never be driven out while we are here. Satan may sometimes be absent from us, and get such a defeat that he is glad to go howling back to his den, but old Adam still remains with us from the first even to the last. He was with us when we first believed in Jesus, and long before that, and he will be with us until that moment when we shall leave our bones in the grave, our fears in the Jordan, and our sins in oblivion.

      12. Once more observe, that neither of these two natures will be content in the fight without bringing in allies to assist. The evil nature has old relations, and in its endeavour to drive out the grace that is within, it sends off messengers to all its helpers. Like Chedorlaomer, the king of Elam, it brings other kings with it, when it goes out to battle. “Ah!” says old Adam, “I have friends in the pit.” He sends a message down to the depths, and willing allies come up from it — spirits from the vasty deep of hell; demons without number come up to help their brother. And then, not content with that, the flesh says: — “Ah! I have friends in this world”; and then the world sends its fierce cohorts of temptation, such as the lust of the eyes and the pride of life. What a battle, when sin, Satan, and the world, all at once together target the Christian. “Oh,” one says, “it is a terrible thing to be a Christian.” I assure you it is. It is one of the hardest things in the world to be a child of God; in fact, it is impossible, unless the Lord makes us his children, and keeps us so.

      13. Well, what does the new nature do? When it sees all these enemies, it cries to the Lord, and then the Lord sends it friends. First to come to its help is Jehovah, in the everlasting counsel, and reveals to the heart its own interest in the secrets of eternity. Then comes Jesus with his blood. “You shall conquer,” he says; “I will make you more than a conqueror through my death.” And then appears the Holy Spirit, the Comforter. With such assistance, this newborn nature is more than a match for its enemies. God will sometimes leave that new nature alone, to let it know its own weakness; but it shall not be for long, lest it should sink in despair. Are you fighting with the enemy today, my dear Christian brethren? Are Satan, the flesh, and the world — that hellish trinity — all against you? Remember, there is a divine trinity for you. Fight on, though like Valiant-for-Truth, your blood runs from your hand and glues your sword to your arm. Fight on! for the legions of heaven are with you; God himself is with you; Jehovah-Nissi is your banner, and Jehovah Rophi is the healer of your wounds. You shall overcome; for who can defeat Omnipotence, or trample divinity beneath his feet?

      14. I have thus endeavoured to describe the conflict; but understand me, it cannot be described. We must say, as Hart does in his hymn, when after singing the emotions of his soul, he says —

      But, brethren, you can surely guess,

      For you perhaps have felt the same.

      If you could see a plain upon which a battle is fought, you would see how the ground is torn up by the wheels of the cannon, by the horse hoofs, and by the trampling of men. What desolation is to be seen, where once the golden crops of harvest grew. How sodden is the ground with the blood of the slain. How frightful is the result of this terrible struggle. But if you could see the believers’ heart after a spiritual battle, you would find it just a counterpart of the battlefield — as much cut up as the ground of the battlefield after the direst conflict that men or fiends have ever waged. For, think: we are combating man with himself; no, more, man with the whole world; no, more, man with hell; God with man, against man, the world and hell. What a fight is that! It would be worth an angel’s while to come from the remotest fields of ether to behold such a conflict.

      15. III. We come now to notice THE WEARY COMBATANT. He lifts up his voice, and weeping he cries, “Oh wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?” It is the cry of a panting warrior. He has fought so long that he has lost his breath, and he draws it in again; he takes breath by prayer. “Oh wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?” He will not give up the conflict; he knows he cannot, and he dare not. That thought does not enter into his mind; but the conflict is so severe, the battle so furious, that he is almost defeated; he sits down to refresh himself, and thus he sighs out his soul; like the panting hart, longing for the water brook, he says, “Oh wretched man that I am.” No, it is more than that. It is the cry of one who is fainting. He has fought until all his strength is spent, and he falls back into the arms of his Redeemer with this fainting gasp, “Oh wretched man that I am!” His strength has failed him; he is badly beaten in the battle, he feels that without the help of God he is so totally defeated that he commences his own wail of defeat, “Oh wretched man that I am.” And then he asks this question, “Who shall deliver me?” And there comes a voice from the Law, “I cannot and I will not.” There comes a voice from Conscience, “I can make you see the battle, but I cannot help you in it.” And then there comes a cry from old Human Nature, and that says, “Ah! no one can deliver you, I shall yet destroy you; you shall fall by the hand of your enemy; the house of David shall be destroyed, and Saul shall live and reign for ever.” And the poor fainting soldier cries again, “Who shall deliver me?” It seems a hopeless case, and I believe that sometimes the true Christian may think himself hopelessly given over to the power of sin.

      16. The wretchedness of Paul, I think, lay in two things, which are enough to make any man wretched. Paul believed the doctrine of human responsibility, and yet he felt the doctrine of human inability. I have heard people say sometimes — “You tell the sinner that he cannot believe and repent without the help of the Holy Spirit, and yet you tell him that it is his duty to believe and repent. How are these two to be reconciled?” We reply that they do not need any reconciliation; they are two truths of Holy Scripture, and we leave them to reconcile themselves, they are friends, and friends do not need any reconciliation. But what seems a difficulty as a matter of doctrine is clear as daylight as a matter of experience. I know it is my duty to be perfect, but I am conscious I cannot be. I know that every time I commit sin I am guilty, and yet I am quite certain that I must sin — that my nature is such that I cannot help it. I feel that I am unable to get rid of this body of sin and death, and yet I know I ought to get rid of it. These two things are enough to make any man miserable — to know that he is responsible for his sinful nature, and yet to know that he cannot get rid of it — to know that he ought to keep it down, and yet to feel he cannot — to know that it is his business to keep God’s law perfectly, and walk blamelessly in the commandments of the law, and yet to know by sad experience that he is as unable to do so as he is to reverse the motion of the globe, or dash the sun from the centre of the spheres. Will not these two things drive any man to desperation? The way in which some men avoid the dilemma, is by a denial of one of these truths. They say, “Well, it is true I am unable to cease from sin”; and then they deny their obligation to do so; they do not cry, “Oh wretched man that I am”; they live as they like, and say they cannot help it. On the other hand, there are some men who know they are responsible; but then they say, “Indeed but I can cast off my sin,” and these are tolerably happy. Both Arminian and the hyper-Calvinist get along very comfortably; but the man who believes these two doctrines, as taught in God’s Word, that he is responsible for sin and yet that he is unable to get rid of it, I do not wonder that when he looks into himself he finds enough to make him sigh and cry, even to faintness and despair, “Oh wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death.”

      17. And now one says, “Ah, I would not be a Christian, if that is the way in which he faints — if he is always to be fighting with himself; and even until he despairs of victory.” Stop a moment. Let us complete the picture. This man is fainting; but he will be restored by and by. Do not think that he is hopelessly defeated, he falls to rise, he faints only to be revived afresh. I know some magic, which can awaken his sleeping hopes and shoot a thrill along the freezing current of his blood. Let us sound the promise in his ear, see how soon he revives. Let us put the cordial to his lips; see how he springs up and plays the man again. “I have been almost defeated” he says, “almost driven to despair. Do not rejoice over me, oh my enemy; though I fall, yet I shall rise again.” And he violently attacks him once more, shouting, “I thank God through