The Spurgeon Series 1855 & 1856. Charles H. Spurgeon

prodigal, come back, come back! Your Father calls you. Listen poor backslider! Come at once to him whose arms are ready to receive you.

      11. It he says will not quench — he will not break. But there is more under cover than we see at first sight. When Jesus says he will not break, he means more than that; he means, “I will take that poor bruised reed; I will plant it close by the rivers of waters, and (miracle of miracles) I will make it grow into a tree whose leaf shall not wither; I will water it every moment; I will watch it; there shall be heavenly fruits upon it; I will keep the birds of prey from it; but the birds of heaven, the sweet songsters of paradise shall make their dwellings in the branches.” When he says that he will not break the bruised reed, he means more; he means that he will nourish, that he will help, and strengthen, and support, and glorify — that he will execute his commission on it, and make it glorious for ever. And when he says to the backslider that he will not quench him, he means more than that — he means that he will fan him up to a flame. Some of you, I dare say, have gone home from chapel and found that your fire had gone nearly out; I know how you deal with it; you blow gently at the single spark, if there is one, and lest you should blow too hard, you hold your fingers before it; and if you were alone and had only one match, or one spark in the tinder, how gently would you blow on it. So, backslider, Jesus Christ deals with you; he does not put you out, he blows gently; he says, “I will not quench you,” he means, “I will be very tender, very cautious, very careful”; he will put on dry material, so that by and by, a little spark shall come to a flame and blaze up towards heaven, and great shall be its fire.

      12. Now I want to say one or two things to Little Faiths this morning. The little children of God who are here mentioned as being bruised reeds or smoking flax are just as safe as the great saints of God. I wish for a moment to expand this thought, and then I will finish with the other point. These saints of God who are called bruised reeds and smoking flax are just as safe as those who are mighty for their Master, and great in strength, for several reasons. First of all, the little saint is just as much God’s elect as the great saint. When God chose his people, he chose them all at once, and altogether; and he elected one just as much as the other. If I choose a certain number of things, one may be less than the rest, but one is as much chosen as the other; and so Mrs. Fearing and Miss Despondency are just as much elected as Great Heart, or Old Father Honest. Again: the little ones are redeemed equally with the great ones! the feeble saints cost Christ as much suffering as the strong ones; the tiniest child of God could not have been purchased with less than Jesus’ precious blood; and the greatest child of God did not cost him more. Paul did not cost any more than Benjamin — I am sure he did not — for I read in the Bible that “there is no difference.” Besides, when of old they came to pay their redemption money, every person brought a shekel. The poor shall bring no less, and the rich shall bring no more than just a shekel. The same price was paid for the one as the other. Now then little child of God, take that thought to your soul. You see some men very prominent in Christ’s cause — and it is very good that they should be — but they did not cost Jesus a farthing more than you did; he paid the same price for you that he paid for them. Remember again, you are just as much a child of God as the greatest saint. Some of you have five or six children. There is one child of yours, perhaps who is very tall and handsome, and has, moreover, gifts of mind; and you have another child who is the smallest of the family, perhaps has only a little intellect and understanding. But which is the most your child? “The most!” you say; “both alike are my children, certainly, one as much as the other.” And so, dear friends, you may have very little learning, you may be very ignorant about divine things, you may only “see men as trees walking,” but you are as much the children of God as those who have grown to the stature of men in Christ Jesus. Then remember, poor tried saint that you are just as much justified as any other child of God. I know that I am completely justified.

      His blood and righteousness

      My beauty are, my glorious dress.

      I want no other garments, save Jesus’ doings, and his imputed righteousness.

      13. The bold child of God wants no more; and I who am “less than the least of all saints,” can be content with no less, and I shall have no less, oh Ready-to-Halt, you are as much justified as Paul, Peter, John the Baptist, or the loftiest saint in heaven. There is no difference in that matter. Oh! take courage and rejoice.

      14. Then one thing more. If you were lost, God’s honour would be as much tarnished as if the greatest one were lost. A queer thing I once read in an old book about God’s children and people being a part of Christ and in union with him. The writer says — “A father sits in his room, and there comes in a stranger, the stranger takes up a child on his knee, and the child has a sore finger; so he says; ‘My child, you have a sore finger’; ‘Yes!’ ‘Well, let me take it off, and give you a golden one!’ The child looks at him and says, ‘I will not go to that man any more, for he talks of taking off my finger; I love my own finger, and I will not have a golden one instead of it.’ ” So the saint says, “I am one of the members of Christ, but I am like a sore finger, and he will take me off and put a golden one on.” “No,” said Christ, “no, no; — I cannot have any of my members taken away; if the finger is sore, I will bind it up; I will strengthen it.” Christ cannot allow a word about cutting his members off. If Christ lost one of his people, he would not be a whole Christ any longer. If the least of his children could be cast away, Christ would lack a part of his fulness, yes, Christ would be incomplete without his Church. If one of his children must be lost, it would be better that it should be a great one, than a little one. If a little one were lost, Satan would say “Ah! you save the great ones, because they had strength and could help themselves; but the little one that has no strength, you could not save him.” You know what Satan would say; but God would shut Satan’s mouth, by proclaiming “They are all here, Satan, in spite of your malice, they are all here; every one is safe; now lie down in your den for ever, and be bound eternally in chains, and smoke in fire!” So shall he suffer eternal torment, but not one child of God ever shall.

      15. One thought more and I shall be finished with this point. The salvation of great saints often depends upon the salvation of little ones. Do you understand that? You know that my salvation, or the salvation of any child of God, looking at second causes, very much depends upon the conversion of someone else. Suppose your mother is the means of your conversion, you would, speaking after the manner of men, say, that your conversion depended upon hers; for her being converted, made her the instrument of bringing you in. Suppose such-and-such a minister to be the means of your calling; then your conversion, in some sense, though not absolutely, depends upon his. So it often happens, that the salvation of God’s mightiest servants depends upon the conversion of little ones. There is a poor mother; no one ever knows anything about her; she goes to the house of God; her name is not in the newspapers, or anywhere else; she teaches her child and brings him up in the fear of God; she prays for that boy; she wrestles with God, and her tears and prayers mingle together. The boy grows up. What is he? A missionary — a William Knibb — a Moffat — a Williams. But you do not hear anything about the mother. Ah! but if the mother had not been saved, where would the boy have been? Let this cheer the little ones; and may you rejoice that he will nourish and cherish you, though you are like bruised reeds and smoking flax.

      16. III. Now, to finish up, there is a CERTAIN VICTORY. “Until he send forth judgment to victory.”

      17. Victory! There is something beautiful in that word. The death of Sir John Moore, in the Peninsular War, {b} was very touching; he fell in the arms of triumph; and sad as was his fate, I do not doubt that his eye was lit up with lustre by the shout of victory. So also, I suppose, that Wolfe {c} spoke a truth when he said, “I die happy,” having just before heard the shout, “they run, they run.” I know victory even in that bad sense — for I do not look upon earthly victories as of any value — must have cheered the warrior. But oh! how cheered the saint when he knows that victory is his! I shall fight during all my life, but I shall write “vici” {d} on my shield. I shall be “more than conqueror through him that loved me.” Each feeble saint shall win the day; each man upon his crutches; each lame one; each one full of infirmity, sorrow, sickness, and weakness, shall