The Spurgeon Series 1855 & 1856. Charles H. Spurgeon

as Ananias did and say, “Behold, behold, behold; it is a miracle on earth, a wonder in heaven?”

      10. The last thing I have to say here, is this — this fact was a novelty to Saul himself. “Behold, he prays.” What is there novel in that? Saul used to go up to the temple twice a day, at the hour of prayer. If you could have accompanied him, you would have heard him speak beautifully, in words like these: “Lord, I thank you I am not as other men are; I am not an extortioner, nor a tax collector; I fast twice in the week, and give tithes of all I possess” and so on. Oh! you might have found him pouring out a fine oration before the throne of God. And yet it says, “Behold, he prays.” What! had he never prayed before? No, never. All he had ever done before went for nothing; it was not prayer. I have heard of an old gentleman, who was taught, when a child, to pray, “Pray God bless my father and mother,” and he kept on praying the same thing for seventy years when his parents were both dead. After that it pleased God, in his infinite mercy, to touch his heart, and he was led to see that, notwithstanding his constancy to his forms, he had not been praying at all; he often said his prayers, but never prayed. So it was with Saul. He had pronounced his magniloquent orations, but they were all good for nothing. He had prayed his long prayers for a pretence; it had all been a failure. Now comes a true petition, and it is said, “Behold he prays.” Do you see that man trying to obtain a hearing from his Maker? How he stands! He speaks Latin and blank verse before the Almighty’s throne; but God sits in calm indifference paying no attention. Then the man tries a different style; procures a book, and bending his knee again, prays in a delightful form the best old prayer that could ever be put together, but the Most High disregards his empty formalities. At last the poor creature throws the book away, forgets his blank verse, and says, “Oh Lord, hear, for Christ’s sake.” “Hear him,” says God, “I have heard him.” There is the mercy you have sought. One hearty prayer is better than ten thousand forms. One prayer coming from the soul is better than a myriad of cold readings. As for prayers that spring from the mouth and head only, God abhors them; he loves those that come deep from the heart. Perhaps I should be impudent if I were to say that there are hundreds here this morning who never prayed once in their lives. There are some of you who never did. There is one young man over there, who told his parents when he left them, that he would always go through his form of prayer every morning and night. But he is ashamed, and he has stopped doing it. Well, young man, what will you do when you come to die? Will you have “the watchword at the gates of death?” Will you “enter heaven by prayer?” No, you will not; you will be driven from God’s presence, and be cast away.

      11. II. Secondly, we have here AN ARGUMENT. “For, behold, he prays.” It was an argument, first of all, for Ananias’ safety. Poor Ananias was afraid to go to Saul; he thought it was very much like stepping into a lion’s den. “If I go to his house,” he thought, “the moment he sees me, he will take me to Jerusalem at once, for I am one of Christ’s disciples, I dare not go.” God says, “Behold, he prays.” “Well,” says Ananias, “that is enough for me. If he is a praying man, he will not hurt me; if he is a man of real devotion, I am safe.” Be sure you may always trust a praying man. I do not know how it is, but even ungodly men always pay a reverence to a sincere Christian. A master likes to have a praying servant after all, if he does not regard religion himself, he likes to have a pious servant, and he will trust him rather any other. True, there are some of your professedly praying people that have not a bit of prayer in them. But whenever you find a really praying man, trust him with untold gold; for if he really prays, you need not be afraid of him. He who communes with God in secret, may be trusted in public. I always feel safe with a man who is a visitor to the mercy seat. I have heard an anecdote of two gentlemen travelling together, somewhere in Switzerland. Presently they come into the midst of the forests; and you know the gloomy tales the people tell about the inns there, how dangerous it is to lodge in them. One of them, an infidel, said to the other, who was a Christian, “I do not like stopping here at all, it is very dangerous indeed.” “Well,” said the other, “let us try.” So they went into a house, but it looked so suspicious that neither of them liked it; and they thought they would prefer being at home in England. Presently the landlord said, “Gentlemen, I always read and pray with my family before going to bed; will you allow me to do so tonight?” “Yes,” they said “with the greatest pleasure.” When they went upstairs, the infidel said, “I am not at all afraid now.” “Why?” said the Christian. “Because our host has prayed.” “Oh!” said the other, “then it seems, after all, you think something of religion; because a man prays, you can go to sleep in his house.” And it was marvellous how both of them did sleep. Sweet dreams they had, for they felt that where the house had been roofed by prayer, and walled with devotion, there could not be found a man living that would commit an injury to them. This, then, was an argument to Ananias, that he might go with safety to Saul’s house.

      12. But more than this there was an argument for Paul’s sincerity. Secret prayer is one of the best tests of sincere religion. If Jesus had said to Ananias, “Behold, he preaches,” Ananias would have said, “that he may do, and yet be a deceiver.” If he had said, “He is gone to a meeting of the church,” Ananias would have said “He may enter there as a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” But when he said, “Behold, he prays,” that was argument enough. A young person comes and tells me about what he has felt and what he has been doing. At last I say, “Kneel down and pray.” “I would much rather not.” “Never mind, you shall.” Down he falls on his knees, he has hardly a word to say; he begins groaning and crying, and there he stays on his knees until at last he stammers out, “Lord have mercy upon me a sinner; I am the greatest of sinners; have mercy upon me!” Then I am a little more satisfied, and I say, “I did not really listen to all your talk, I wanted to hear your prayers.” But oh! if I could follow him home; if I could see him go and pray alone then I would feel sure; for he who prays in private is a real Christian. The mere reading of a book of daily devotion will not prove you a child of God; if you pray in private, then you have a sincere religion; a little religion, if sincere, is better than mountains of pretence. Home piety is the best piety. Praying will make you stop sinning, or sinning will make you stop praying. Prayer in the heart proves the reality of conversion. A man may be sincere, but sincerely wrong. Paul was sincerely right. “Behold, he prays,” was the best argument that his religion was right. If anyone should ask me for an epitome of the Christian religion, I should say it is in that one word — “prayer.” If I should be asked, “What will take in the whole of Christian experience?” I should answer, “prayer.” A man must have been convicted of sin before he could pray; he must have had some hope that there was mercy for him before he could pray. In fact, all the Christian virtues are locked up in that word, prayer. Do only tell me you are a man of prayer, and I will reply at once, “Sir, I have no doubt of the reality, as well as the sincerity, of your religion.”

      13. But one more thought, and I will leave this subject. It was a proof of this man’s election, for you read directly afterwards, “Behold, he is a chosen vessel.” I often find people troubling themselves about the doctrine of Election. Every now and then I get a letter from someone or other taking me to task for preaching election. All the answer I can give is, “There it is in the Bible; go and ask my Master why he put it there. I cannot help it. I am only a serving man, and I tell you the message from above. If I were a footman I would not alter my Master’s message at the door. I happen to be an ambassador of heaven, and I dare not alter the message I have received. If it is wrong, send up to headquarters. There it is, and I cannot alter it.” This much let me say in explanation. Some say. “How can I discover whether I am God’s elect? I am afraid I am not God’s elect.” Do you pray? If it can be said, “Behold, he prays,” it can also be said, “Behold he is a chosen vessel.” Have you faith? If so, you are elect. Those are the marks of election. If you have none of these you have no grounds for concluding that you belong to the peculiar people of God. Have you a desire to believe? Have you a wish to love Christ? Have you the millionth part of a desire to come to Christ? And is it a practical desire? Does it lead you to offer earnest, tearful supplication? If so, never be afraid of non-election; for whoever prays with sincerity, was ordained of God before the foundation of the world, that he should be holy and without blame before Christ in love.

      14. III.