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REV. C.H. SPURGEON
At New Park Street Chapel, Southwark
"The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds, through Christ Jesus."—Philippians 4:7.
It is remarkable, that when we find an exhortation given to
God's people in one part of the Holy Scripture, we almost invariably find the very thing
which they are exhorted to do guaranteed to them, and provided for them, in some other
part of the same blessed volume. This morning, my text was, "Keep the heart with all
diligence, for out of it are the issues of life." Now, this evening we have the
promise upon which we must rest, if we desire to fulfill the precept:—"The peace
of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds, through Christ
Jesus."
This evening we shall use another figure, distinct from the one used in the morning, of the
reservoir. We shall use the figure of a fortress, which is to be kept. And the
promise saith that it shall be kept—kept by "the peace of God, which passeth all
understanding, through Christ Jesus."
Inasmuch as the heart is the most important part of man—for out of it are the issues
of life—it would be natural to expect that Satan, when he intended to do mischief to
manhood, would be sure to make his strongest and most perpetual attacks upon the heart.
What we might have guessed in wisdom, is certainly true in experience; for although Satan
will tempt and try us in every way, though every gate of the town of Mansoul may be
battered, though, against every part of the walls thereof he will be sure to bring out his
great guns, yet the place against which he levels his deadliest malice, and his most
furious strength, is the heart. Into the heart, already of itself evil enough, he thrusts
the seeds of every evil thing, and doth his utmost to make it a den of unclean birds, a
garden of poisonous trees, a river flowing with destructive water. Hence, again, arises
the second necessity that we should be doubly cautious in keeping the heart with all
diligence; for if, on the one hand, it be the most important, and, on the other hand,
Satan, knowing this, makes his most furious and determined attacks against it, then, with
double force the exhortation comes, "Keep thy heart with all diligence." And the
promise also becomes doubly sweet, from the very fact of the double danger—the
promise which says, "The peace of God shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ
Jesus our Lord."
We shall notice, first of all, that which keeps the heart and mind. Secondly, we
shall note how to obtain it—for we are to understand this promise as connected
with certain precepts which come before it. And then, when we have had this, we shall try
to show how it is true that the peace of God does keep the mind free from the attacks
of Satan, or delivers it from those attacks when they are made.
I. First, then, beloved, the preservation which God in this promise confers upon the
saints, is "THE PEACE OF GOD WHICH PASSETH ALL UNDERSTANDING," to keep us
through Jesus Christ. It is called PEACE; and we are to understand this in a double sense.
There is a peace of God which exists between the child of God, and God his Judge, a peace
which may be truly said to pass all understanding. Jesus Christ has offered so
all-sufficient a satisfaction for all the claims of injured justice, that now God hath no
fault to find with his children. "He seeth no sin in Jacob, nor iniquity in
Israel;" nor is he angry with them on account of their sins—a peace unbroken,
and unspeakable being established by the atonement which Christ hath made on their behalf.
Hence flows a peace experienced in the conscience, which is the second part of this peace
of God: for, when the conscience sees that God is satisfied, and is no longer at war with
it, then it also becomes satisfied with man; and conscience, which was wont to be a great
disturber of the peace of the heart, now gives its verdict of acquittal, and the heart
sleeps in the arms of conscience, finds a quiet resting-place there. Against the child of
God conscience brings no accusation, or if it brings the accusation, it is but a gentle
one—a gentle chiding of a loving friend, who hints that we have done amiss; and that
we had better change, but doth not afterward thunder in our ears the threat of a penalty.
Conscience knows full well that peace is made betwixt the soul and God, and, therefore, it
does not hint that there is anything else but joy and peace to be looked forward to by the
believer. Do we understand anything of this double peace? Let us pause here, and ask
ourselves a question upon this doctrinal part of the matter—Let us make it an
experimental question with our own hearts:—"Come, my soul, art thou at peace
with God? Hast thou seen thy pardon signed and sealed with the Redeemer's blood? Come,
answer this, my heart; hast thou cast thy sins upon the head of Christ, and hast thou seen
them all washed away in the crimson streams of blood? Canst thou feel that now there is a
lasting peace between thyself and God, so that, come what may, God shall not be angry with
thee—shall not condemn thee shall not consume thee in his wrath, nor crush thee in
his hot displeasure? If it be so, then, my heart, thou canst scarcely need to stop and ask
the second question—Is my conscience at peace? For, if my heart condemn me not, God
is greater than my heart, and doth know all things; if my conscience bears witness with
me, that I am a partaker of the precious grace of salvation, then happy am I! I am one of
those to whom God hath given the peace which passeth all understanding. Now, why is this
called "the peace of God?" We suppose it is because it comes from
God—because it was planned by God—because God gave his Son to make the
peace—because God gives his Spirit to give the peace in the conscience—because,
indeed, it is God himself in the soul, reconciled to man, whose is the peace. And while it
is true that this man shall have the peace—even the Man-Christ, yet we know it is
because he was the God-Christ that he was our peace. And hence we may clearly perceive how
Godhead is mixed up with the peace which we enjoy with our Maker, and with our conscience.
Then we are told that it is "the peace of God which passeth all understanding."
What does he mean by this? He means such a peace, that the understanding can never
understand it, can never attain to it. The understanding of mere carnal man can never
comprehend this peace. He who tries with a philosophic look to discover the secret of the
Christian's peace, finds himself in a maze. "I know not how it is, nor why it
is," saith he; "I see these men hunted through the earth; I turn the pages of
history, and I find them hunted to their graves. They wandered about in sheepskins and
goat skins, destitute, afflicted, and tormented; yet, I also see upon the Christian's brow
a calm serenity. I can not understand this; I do not know what it is. I know that I
myself, even in my merriest moments, am disturbed; that when my enjoyments run the
highest, still there are waves of doubt and fear across my mind. Then why is this? How is
it that the Christian can attain a rest so calm, so peaceful, and so quiet?"
Understanding can never get to that peace which the Christian hath attained. The
philosopher may teach us much; he can never give us rules whereby to reach the peace that
Christians have in their conscience. Diogenes may tell us to do without everything, and
may live in his tub, and then think himself happier than Alexander, and that he enjoys
peace; but we look upon the poor creature after all, and though we may be astonished at
his courage, yet we are obliged to despise his folly. We do not believe that even when he
had dispensed with everything, he possessed a quiet of mind, a total and entire peace,
such as the true believer can enjoy. We find the greatest philosophers of old laying down
maxims for life, which they thought would certainly promote happiness. We find that they
were not always able to practise them themselves, and many of their disciples, when they
labored hard to put them in execution, found themselves encumbered with impossible rules
to accomplish impossible objects. But the Christian man does with faith what a man can
never do himself. While the poor understanding is climbing up the craigs, faith stands on
the summit; while the poor understanding is getting into a calm atmosphere, faith flies
aloft and mounts higher than the storm, and then looks down on the valley, and smiles
while the tempest blows beneath its feet. Faith goes further than understanding, and the
peace which the Christian enjoys is one which the worldling can not comprehend, and can
not himself attain. "The peace of God, which passeth all understanding."
And this peace is said to "keep the mind through Christ Jesus." Without Christ
Jesus this peace would not exist; without Christ Jesus this peace, even where it has
existed, can not be maintained. Daily visits from the Saviour, continual lookings by the
eye of faith to him who bled upon the cross, continual drawings from his ever-flowing
fountain, make this peace broad, and long, and enduring. But take Jesus Christ, the
channel of our peace away, and it fades and dies, and droops, and comes to naught. A
Christian hath no peace with God except through the atonement of his Lord Jesus Christ.
I have thus gone over what some will call the dry doctrinal part of the
subject—"The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your
hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." I can not show you what that peace is, if you
have never felt it; but yet I think I could tell you where to look for it, for I have
sometimes seen it. I have seen the Christian man in the depths of poverty, when he lived
from hand to mouth, and scarcely knew where he should find the next meal, still with his
mind unruffled, calm, and quiet. If he had been as rich as an Indian prince, yet could he
not have had less care; if he had been told that his bread should always come to his door,
and the stream which ran hard by should never dry—if he had been quite sure that
ravens would bring him bread and meat in the morning, and again in the evening, he would
not have been one whit more calm. There is his neighbor on the other side of the street
not half so poor, but wearied from morning to night, working his fingers to the bone,
bringing himself to the grave with anxiety; but this poor good man, after having
industriously labored, though he found he had gained little with all his toil, yet hath
sanctified his little by prayer, and hath thanked his Father for what he had; and though
he doth not know whether he will have more, still he trusted in God, and declared that his
faith should not fail him, though providence should run to a lower ebb than he had ever
seen. There is "the peace of God which passeth all understanding." I have seen
that peace, too, in the case of those who have lost their friends. There is a
widow—her much-loved husband lies in the coffin; she is soon to part with him. Parted
with him she has before: but now, of his poor clay-cold corpse—even of that she has
to be bereaved. She looks upon it for the last time, and her heart is heavy. For herself
and her children, she thinks how they shall be provided for. That broad tree that once
sheltered them from the sunbeam has been cut down. Now, she thinks there is a broad heaven
above her head, and her Maker is her husband; the fatherless children are left with God
for their father, and the widow is trusting in him. With tears in her eyes she still looks
up, and she says, "Lord, thou hast given and thou hast taken away, blessed be thy
name." Her husband is carried to the tomb; she doth not smile, but though she weeps,
there is a calm composure on her brow, and she tells you she would not have it otherwise,
even if she could, for Jehovah's will is right. There, again, is "the peace of God
that passeth all understanding." Picture another man. There is Martin Luther standing
up in the midst of the Diet of Worms; there are the kings and the princes, and there are
the bloodhounds of Rome with their tongues thirsting for his blood—there is Martin
rising in the morning as comfortable as possible, and he goes to the Diet, and delivers
himself of the truth, solemnly declares that the things which he has spoken are the things
which he believes, and God helping him he will stand by them till the last. There is his
life in his hands; they have him entirely in their power. The smell of John Huss's corpse
has not yet passed away, and he recollects that princes before this have violated their
words; but there he stands, calm and quiet; he fears no man, for he has naught to fear;
"the peace of God which passeth all understanding" keeps his heart and mind
through Jesus Christ. There is an other scene: there is John Bradford in Newgate. He is to
be burned the next morning in Smithfield, and he swings himself on the bedpost in very
glee, and delights, for to-morrow is his wedding-day; and he says to another, "Fine
shining we shall make to-morrow, when the flame is kindled." And he smiles and
laughs, and enjoys the very thought that he is about to wear the blood-red crown of
martyrdom. Is Bradford mad? Ah, no; but he has got the peace of God that passeth all
understanding. But perhaps the most beautiful, as well as the most common illustration of
this sweet peace, is the dying bed of the believer. Oh, brethren, you have seen this
sometimes that calm, quiet serenity; you have said, Lord, let us die with him. It has been
so good to be in that solitary chamber where all was quiet and so still, all the world
shut out, and heaven shut in, and the poor heart nearing its God, and far away from all
its past burdens and griefs—now nearing the portals of eternal bliss. And ye have
said, "How is this? Is not death a black and grim thing? Are not the terrors of the
grave things which make the strong man tremble?" Oh yes, they are; but, then, this
one has the "peace of God which passeth all understanding." However, if you want
to know about this, you must be a child of God, and possess it yourselves; and when you
have once felt it, when you can stand calm amid the bewildering cry, confident of victory,
when you can sing in the midst of the storm, when you can smile when surrounded by
adversity, and can trust your God, be your way never so rough, ne'er so stormy; when you
can always repose confidence in the wisdom and goodness of Jehovah, then it is you will
have "the peace of God which passeth all understanding."
II. Thus we have discussed the first point, what is this peace? Now the second thing was,
HOW IS THIS PEACE TO BE OBTAINED? You will note that although this is a promise, it hath
precepts preceding, and it is only by the practice of the precepts that we can get the
promise. Turn now to the fourth verse, and you will see the first rule and regulation for
getting peace. Christian, would you enjoy "the peace of God which passeth all
understanding?"
The first thing you have to do is to "rejoice evermore." The man who never
rejoices, but who is always sorrowing, and groaning, and crying, who forgets his God, who
forgets the fullness of Jehovah, and is always murmuring concerning the trials of the road
and the infirmities of the flesh, that man will lose the prospect of enjoying a peace that
passeth all understanding. Cultivate, my friends, a cheerful disposition; endeavor, as
much as lieth in you, always to bear a smile about with you; recollect that this is as
much a command of God as that one which says, "Thou shalt love the Lord with all thy
heart." "Rejoice evermore," is one of Godly commands; and it is your duty,
as well as your privilege, to try and practice it. Not to rejoice, remember, is a sin. To
rejoice is a duty, and such a duty that the richest fruits and the best rewards are
appended to it. Rejoice always, and then the peace of God shall keep your hearts and
minds. Many of us, by giving way to disastrous doubts, spoil our peace. It is as I once
remember to have heard a woman say, when I was passing down a lane; a child stood crying
at the door, and I heard her calling out, "Ah, you are crying for nothing; I will
give you something to cry for." Brethren, it is often so with God's children. They
get crying for nothing. They have a miserable disposition, or a turn of mind always making
miseries for themselves, and thus they have something to cry for. Their peace is
disturbed, some sad trouble comes, God hides his face, and then they lose their peace. But
keep on singing even when the sun does not keep on shining; keep a song for all weathers;
get a joy that will stand clouds and storms; and then, when you know how always to
rejoice, you shall have this peace.
The next precept is, "Let your moderation be known unto all men." If you would
have peace of mind, be moderate. Merchant, you can not push that speculation too far, and
then have peace of mind. Young man, you can not be so fast in trying to rise in the world,
and yet have the peace of God which passeth all understanding. You must be moderate, and
when you have got a moderation in your desires, then you shall have peace. Sir, you with
the red cheek, you must be moderate in your anger. You must not be quite so fast in flying
into a passion with your fellows, and not quite so long in getting cool again; because the
angry man can not have peace in his conscience. Be moderate in that; let your vengeance
stay itself; for if you give way to wrath, if you are angry, "be ye angry and sin
not." Be moderate in this; be moderate in all things which thou undertakes,
Christian; moderate in your expectations. Blessed is he who expects little, for he shall
have but little disappointment. Remember never to set thy desires very high. He that has
aspirations to the moon, will be disappointed if he only reaches half as high; whereas, if
he had aspired lower, he would be agreeably disappointed when he found himself mounting
higher than he first expected. Keep moderation, whatsoever you do, in all things, but in
your desires after God; and so shall you obey the second precept, and get the glimpse of
this promise, "The peace of God shall keep your hearts and minds through Jesus
Christ."
The last precept that you have to obey is, "be careful for nothing, but in every
thing by prayer and supplication make known your requests unto God." You can not have
peace unless you turn your troubles up. You have no place in which to pour your troubles
except the ear of God. If you tell them to your friends, you but put your troubles out a
moment, and they will return again. If you tell them to God, you put your troubles into
the grave; they will never rise again when you have committed them to him. If you roll
your burden anywhere else it will roll back again, just like the stone of Sysiphus; but
just roll your burden unto God, and you have rolled it into a great deep, out of which it
will never by any possibility rise. Cast your troubles where you have cast your sins; you
have cast your sins into the depth of the sea, there cast your troubles also. Never keep a
trouble half an hour on your own mind before you tell it to God. As soon as the trouble
comes, quick, the first thing, tell it to your father. Remember, that the longer you take
telling your trouble to God, the more your peace will be impaired. The longer the frost
lasts, the more likely the ponds will be frozen. Your frost will last till you go to the
sun; and when you go to God - the sun, then your frost will soon become a thaw, and your
troubles will melt away. But do not be long, because the longer you are in waiting, the
longer will your trouble be in thawing afterwards. Wait a long time till your troubles
gets frozen thick and firm, and it will take many a day of prayer to get your trouble
thawed again. Away to the throne as quick as ever you can. Do as the child did, when he
ran and told his mother as soon as his little trouble happened to him; run and tell your
Father the first moment you are in affliction. Do this in every thing, in every little
thing—"in every thing by prayer and supplication make known your wants unto
God." Take your husband's head-ache, take your children's sicknesses, take all
things, little family troubles as well as great commercial trials—take them all to
God; pour them all out at once. And so by an obedient practice of this command in every
thing making known your wants unto God, you shall preserve that peace "which shall
keep your heart and mind through Jesus Christ."
These, then, are the precepts. May God the Holy Spirit enable us to obey them, and we
shall then have the continual peace of God.
III. Now, the third thing, was to show HOW THE PEACE, which I attempted to describe in the
first place, KEEPS THE HEART. You will clearly see how this peace will keep the heart
full. That man who has continued peace with God, will not have an empty heart. He feels
that God has done so much for him that he must love his God. The eternal basis of his
peace lays in divine election—the solid pillars of his peace, the incarnation of
Christ, his righteousness, his death— the climax of his peace, the heaven hereafter
where his joy and his peace shall be consummated; all these are subjects for grateful
reflection, and will, when meditated upon, cause more love. Now, where much love is, there
is a large heart and a full one. Keep, then, this peace with God, and thou wilt keep thy
heart full to the brim. And, remember, that in proportion to the fullness of thine heart
will be the fullness of thy life. Be empty-hearted and thy life will be a meager, skeleton
existence. Be full-hearted, and thy life will be full, fleshy, gigantic, strong, a thing
that will tell upon the world. Keep, then, thy peace with God firm within thee. Keep thou
close to this, that Jesus Christ hath made peace between thee and God. And keep thy
conscience still; then shall thy heart be full and thy soul strong to do thy Master's
work. Keep thy peace with God. This will keep thy heart pure. Thou wilt say if temptation
comes, "What dost thou offer me? Thou offerest me pleasure; lo! I have got it. Thou
offerest me gold; lo! I have got it; all things are mine, the gift of God; I have a city
that hands have not made, 'a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.' I will
not barter this for your poor gold." "I will give you honor," saith Satan.
"I have honor enough," says the peaceful heart; "God will honor me in the
last great day of his account." "I will give thee everything that thou canst
desire," saith Satan. "I have everything that I can desire," says the
Christian.
"I nothing want on earth;
Happy in my Saviour's love,
I am at peace with God."
Avaunt, then, Satan! While I am at peace with
God, I am a match for all thy temptations. Thou offerest me silver; I have gold. Thou
bringest before me the riches of the earth; I have something more substantial than these.
Avaunt, tempter of human kind! Avaunt, thou fiend! Your temptations and blandishments are
lost on one who has peace with God. This peace, too, will keep the heart undivided. He who
has peace with God will set his whole heart on God. "Oh!" says he, "why
should I go to seek anything else on earth, now that I have found my rest in God? As the
bird by wandering, so should I be if I went elsewhere. I have found a fountain; why should
I go and drink at the broken cistern that will hold no water? I lean on the arm of my
beloved; why should I rest on the arm of another? I know that religion is a thing worth my
following; why should I leave the pure snows of Lebanon to follow something else? I know
and feel that religion is rich when it brings forth to me a hundredfold the fruits of
peace; why should I go and sow elsewhere? I will be like the maiden Ruth, I will stop in
the fields of Boaz. Here will I ever stay and never wander."
Again, this peace keeps the heart rich. My hearers will notice that I am passing over the
heads of the mornings discourse, and showing how this peace fulfills the requisites that
we thought necessary in the morning. Peace with God keeps the heart rich. The man who
doubts and is distressed has got a poor heart; it is a heart that has nothing in it. But
when a man has peace with God, his heart is rich. If I am at peace with God I am enabled
to go where I can get riches. The throne is the place where God gives riches. If I am at
peace with him, then I can have access with boldness. Meditation is a great and another
field of enrichment. When my heart is at peace with God, then I can enjoy meditation; but
if I have not peace with God, then I can not meditate profitably; for "the birds come
down on the sacrifice," and I can not drive them away, except my soul is at peace
with God. Hearing the word is another way of getting rich. If my mind is disturbed I can
not hear the word with profit. If I have to bring my family into the chapel; if I have to
bring my business, my ships, or my horses, I can not hear. When I have cows, and dogs, and
horses in the pew, I can not hear the Gospel preached. When I have got a whole week's
business, and a ledger on my heart, I can not hear then; but when I have peace, peace
concerning all things, and rest in my Fathers will, then I can hear with pleasure, and
every word of the gospel is profitable to me; for my mouth is empty, and I can fill it
with the heavenly treasures of his Word. So you see the peace of God is a soul-enriching
thing. And because it keeps the heart rich, thus it is it keeps the heart and mind through
Jesus Christ our Lord. I need hardly say that the peace of God fulfills the only other
requisite which I did not mention, because it was unnecessary to do so. It keeps the heart
always peaceable. Of course, peace makes it full of peace—peace like a river, and
righteousness like the waves of the sea.
Now, then, brother and sister, it is of the first importance that you keep your heart
aright. You can not keep your heart right but by one way. That one way is by getting,
maintaining, and enjoying peace of God to your own conscience. I beseech you then, you
that are professors of religion, do not let this night pass over your heads till you have
a confident assurance that you are now the possessor of the peace of God. For let me tell
you, if you go out to the world next Monday morning without first having peace with God in
your own conscience, you will not be able to keep your heart during the week. If this
night, ere you rest, you could say that with God as well as all the world you are at
peace, you may go out to-morrow, and whatever your business, I am not afraid for you. You
are more than a match for all the temptations to false doctrine, to false living, or to
false speech that may meet you. For he that has peace with God is armed cap-a-pie;
he is covered from head to foot in a panoply. The arrow may fly against it, but it can not
pierce it, for peace with God is a mail so strong that the broad sword of Satan itself may
be broken in twain ere it can pierce the flesh. O! take care that you are at peace with
God; for if you are not, you ride forth to to-morrow's fight unarmed, naked; and God help
the man that is unarmed when he has to fight with hell and earth. O, be not foolish, but
"put on the whole armor of God," and then be confident for you need not fear.
As for the rest of you, you can not have peace with God, because "there is no peace,
saith my God, to the wicked." How shall I address you. As I said this morning, I can
not exhort you to keep your hearts. My best advice to you is, to get rid of your hearts,
and as soon as you can, to get new ones. Your prayer should be, "Lord, take away my
stony heart, and give me a heart of flesh." But though I can not address you from
this text, I may address you from another. Though your heart is bad, there is another
heart that is good; and the goodness of that heart is a ground of exhortation to you. You
remember Christ said, "Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden;" and
then his argument would come to this, "for I am meek and lowly of heart, and ye shall
find rest to your souls." Your heart is proud, and high, and black, and lustful; but
look at Christ's heart, it is meek and lowly. There is your encouragement. Do you feel
to-night your sin? Christ is meek; if you come to him he will not spurn you. Do you feel
your insignificance and worthlessness? Christ is lowly; he will not despise you. If
Christ's heart were like your heart, you would be damned to a certainty. But Christ's
heart is not as your heart, nor his ways like your ways. I can see no hope for you when I
look into your hearts, but I can see plenty of hope when I look into Christ's heart.
O, think of his blessed heart; and if you go home to-night sad and sorrowful, under a
sense of sin, when you go to your chamber, shut to your door—you need not be
afraid—and talk to that heart so meek and lowly; and though your words be
ungrammatical, and your sentences incoherent, he will hear and answer you from heaven, his
dwelling place; and when he hears, he will forgive and accept, for his own name's sake.
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