The Spurgeon Series 1859 & 1860. Charles H. Spurgeon

But now, in the second part of my sermon, I wish to speak of SPIRITIUAL THINGS. To the Christian, these are the causes of more trouble than all his temporal trials. In the matters of the soul and of eternity many doubts will arise. I shall, however, divide them into two kinds — doubts about our present acceptance, and doubts about our final perseverance.

      14. There are many of God’s people who are very vexed and troubled with doubts about their present acceptance. “Oh,” they say, “there was a time when I knew I was a child of God; I was sure that I was Christ’s; my heart would fly up to heaven at a word; I looked to Christ hanging on the cross, I fixed all my trust on him, and a sweet, calm, and blessed repose filled my spirit.

      What peaceful hours I then enjoyed;

      How sweet their memory still!

      But they have left an aching void,

      The world can never fill.

      And now,” says this doubting one, “now I am afraid I never knew the Lord; I think that I have deceived myself, and that I have been a hypocrite. Oh that I could only know that I am Christ’s, I would give all I had in the world, if he would only let me know that he is my beloved, and that I am his.” Now, soul, I will deal with you just as I have been dealing with Peter. Your doubts arise from looking to secondary causes, and not to Christ. Let us see if this is not the truth. Why do you doubt? Your answer is, “I doubt, because I feel my sin so much. Oh, what sins have I committed! When I first came to Christ I thought I was the chief of sinners; but now I know I am. Day after day I have added to my guilt; and since my pretended conversion,” says this doubting one, “I have been a bigger sinner than I ever was before. I have sinned against light and against knowledge, against grace, and mercy, and favour. Oh never was there such a sinner under God’s heaven outside of hell as I am.” But, soul, is not this looking to secondary causes? It is true, you are the chief of sinners; take that for granted; let us not dispute it. Your sins are as evil as you say they are, and a great deal more so. Depend on it, you are worse than you think yourself to be. You think you are bad enough, but you are not as bad in your own estimation as you really are. Your sins seem to you to be like roaring billows, but in God’s sight they are like towering mountains without a summit. You seem to yourself to be black — black as the tents of Kedar; in God’s eyes you are blacker still. Set that down, to begin with, that the waves are big, and that the winds are howling; I will not dispute that. I ask you, what have you to do with that? Does not the Word of God command you to look to Christ. Great as your sins are, Christ is greater than all of them. They are black; but his blood can wash you whiter than snow. I know your sins deserve damnation; but Christ’s merits deserve salvation. It is true, the pit of hell is your lawful portion, but heaven itself is your gracious portion. What! is Christ less powerful than your sin? That cannot be! To suppose that would be to make the creature mightier than the Creator. What! is your guilt more prevalent with God than Christ’s righteousness? Can you think so little of Christ as to imagine that your sins can overwhelm and conquer him? Oh man, your sins are like mountains; but Christ’s love is like Noah’s flood; it prevails twenty cubits, and the tops of the mountains are covered. It is looking at sin and not looking to the Saviour that has made you doubt. You are looking to the secondary cause, and not to him who is greater than all.

      15. “No, but,” you reply, “it is not my sin, sir, that grieves me; it is this: I feel so hardened; I do not feel my sin as I ought to. Oh if I could only weep as some weep! If I could only pray as some pray! Then I think I could be saved. If I could feel some of the terrors that good men have felt, then I think I could believe. But I feel none of these things. My heart seems like a rock of ice, hard as granite, and as cold as an iceberg. It will not melt. You may preach, but it is not affected; I may pray, but my heart seems dumb; I may read even the account of Christ’s death, and yet my soul is not moved by it. Oh surely I cannot be saved!” Ah this is looking to secondary causes, again! Have you forgotten that Word which says, “God is greater than our hearts?” Have you forgotten that? Oh child of God! shame on you since you look for comfort where comfort can never be found. Look to yourself for peace! Why, there never can be any in this land of war. Look to your own heart for joy! There can be none there, in this barren wilderness of sin. Turn, turn your eye to Christ: he can cleanse your heart; he can create life, and light, and truth in the inward parts; he can wash you until you shall be whiter than snow, and cleanse your soul and quicken it, and make it live, and feel, and move, so that it shall hear his simplest words, and obey his whispered mandate. Oh do not look now at the secondary cause; look at the great first cause; otherwise I shall ask you the question again, “Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt”

      16. “Still,” another says, “I could believe, notwithstanding my sin and my hardness of heart; but, do you know, that recently I have lost communion with Christ to such an extent that I cannot help thinking that I must be a castaway. Oh! sir, there were times when Christ used to visit me, and bring me such sweet love tokens. I was like the little ewe lamb in the parable; I drank out of his cup, and fed from his table, and lay in his bosom; often he took me to his banqueting house, his banner over me was love. What feastings I had then! I would bask in the sunlight of his countenance. It was summer with my soul. But now it is winter, and the sun is gone, and the banqueting house is closed. No fruits are on the table; no wines are in the bottles of the promise; I come to the sanctuary, but I find no comfort; I turn to the Bible, but I find no solace; I fall on my knees, but even the stream of prayer seems to be a dry brook.” Ah! soul, but are you not still looking to secondary causes? These are the most precious of all secondary things, but yet you must not look to them, but to Christ. Remember, it is not your communing that saves you, but Christ’s dying; it is not Christ’s comforting visit to your soul, that ensures your salvation; it is Christ’s own visit to the house of mourning, and to the garden of Gethsemane. I wish to have you keep your comforts as long as you can; but when they die, still believe on your God. Jonah had a gourd once, and when that gourd died he began to mourn. Well might someone have said to him, “Jonah! you have lost your gourd, but you have not lost your God.” And so might we say to you: you have not lost his love; you have lost the light of his countenance, but you have not lost the love of his heart; you have lost his sweet and gracious communion, but he is still the same, and he wishes to have you believe his faithfulness and trust him in the dark and rely upon him in the stormy wind and tempest. Look to none of these outward things; but look to Christ alone — Christ bleeding, Christ dying, Christ dead, Christ buried, Christ risen, Christ ascended, Christ interceding. This is the thing you are to look to — Christ, and him only. And looking there, you shall be comforted. But look to anything else, and you shall begin to sink; like Peter, the waves shall fail you, and you shall have to cry, “Lord, save me, or I will perish.”

      17. But, again, to conclude: others of God’s people are afraid that they shall never be able to persevere and hold out to the end. “Oh!” one says, “I know I shall yet fall away and perish, for look! — look what an evil heart of unbelief I have; I cannot live one day without sin; my heart is so treacherous, it is like a bombshell; let only a spark of temptation fall upon it and it will blow up to my eternal destruction. With such a tinderbox heart as I have, how can I hope to escape, while I walk in the midst of a shower of sparks.” “Oh!” one says, “I feel my nature to be so utterly vile and depraved that I cannot hope to persevere. If I hold on a week or a month it will be a great work; but to hold on all my life until I die — oh! this is impossible.” Are you not looking to secondary causes again? Will you please to remember that if you look to creature strength it is utterly impossible that you should persevere in grace, even for ten minutes, much less for ten years! If your perseverance depends upon yourself you are a lost man. You may write that down for a certainty. If you have one jot or one tittle to do with your own perseverance in divine grace you will never see God’s face at last; your grace will die out; your life will be extinguished, and you must perish, if your salvation depends upon yourself. But remember, you have already been kept these months and these years: what has done that? Why, divine grace; and the divine grace that has kept you for one year can keep you for a century, no, for an eternity, if it would be necessary. He who has begun can carry on and must carry on too, otherwise he would be false to his promise and would deny himself. “Ah! but,” you say, “sir, I cannot tell with what