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Tell us there is no Spirit? Why, about this we
can speak positively. A fool may say that there is no magnetic influence, and that no
electric streams can flow along the wires, but they who have once been touched by that
mysterious power know it; and the Holy Spirit's influence on men is quite as much within
the sphere of our recognition, if we have ever felt it, as is the influence of galvanism
or magnetism. Those who have once felt the spiritual life know when it is flowing in; when
its strength is withdrawn, and when it returns anew. They know that at times they can do
all things; their heaviest trial is a joy, and their weightiest burden a delight; and that
at other times they can do nothing, being bowed down to the very dust with weakness. They
know that at times they enjoy peace with God through Jesus Christ, and that at other times
they are disturbed in spirit. They have discovered, too, that these changes do not depend
upon the weather, nor upon circumstances, nor upon any relation of one thought to another,
but upon certain secret, mystic, and divine impulses which come forth from the Spirit of
God, which make a man more than man, for he is filled with Deity from head to foot, and
whose withdrawal makes him feel himself less than man, for he is filled with sin and
drenched with iniquity, till he loatheth his own being. Tell us there is no Holy Spirit!
We have seen his goings in the sanctuary, but as we shall have to mention these
by-and-bye, we pass on, and only now affirm that the Father, Son, and Spirit, are to true
Christians no fiction, no dream, no fancy, but as real and as true as persons whom we can
see, things which we can handle, or viands which we can taste.
But further, we can also say that the experience which true religion brings is no
fiction. Believe me, sirs, it is no fiction to repent; for there is a bitterness in
it which makes it all too real. Oh, the agony of sin lying on an awakened conscience! If
you have ever felt it, it will seem to you as the ravings of a madman when any shall tell
you that religion is not real! When the great hammer of the law broke our hearts in
pieces, it was a stern reality. These eyes have sometimes, before I knew the Saviour, been
ready to start from my head with horror, and my soul has often been bowed down with a
grief far too terrible ever to be told to my fellow-man, when I felt that I was guilty
before God, that my Maker was angry with me, that he must punish me, and that I deserved
and must suffer his eternal wrath. I do assure you there was no fiction there! And when
the Spirit of God comes into the heart and takes all our grief away, and gives us joy
and peace in believing in Christ, there is no fiction then. Of course, to other men
this is no evidence, except they will believe our honesty; but to us it is the very best
of evidence. We were bidden to believe on Christ; it was all we were to do: to look to his
cross, to believe him to be the propitiation for sin, and to trust in him to save us; we
did so, and oh, the joy of that moment! In one instant we leaped from the depths of hell
to the very heights of heaven in experience; dragged up out of the horrible pit, and out
of the miry clay, our feet were set upon a rock, and we could sing for very joy. Oh, the
mirth! oh, the bliss! oh, the ecstacy of the soul that can say—
That was no fiction, surely. If it be so, I
will continue to cry, "Blessed fiction! blessed dream! may I contrive to believe
thee; may I always be so deluded if this is to be deluded and misled!" Since then,
look at the believer's experience. He has had as many troubles as other men have, but oh,
what comforts he has had! He lost his wife, and as he stood there and thought his heart
would break, he could still say, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away;
blessed be the name of the Lord." Child after child sickened before his loving gaze,
and as they went one after the other to the tomb where he often wished he could have slept
instead of them—while he mourned and wept as Jesus did, yet still he could say,
"Though he slay me yet will I trust in him." When the house was burned—when
the property vanished—when trade ran ill—when character was slandered—when
the soul was desponding and all but despairing, yet there came in that one ray of light,
"Christ is all, and all things work together for good to them that love God, to them
that are called according to his purpose." I can tell you, that Christians have often
had their brightest days when other people thought they were in their darkest nights; and
they have often had the best of dainties when there was a famine abroad. Is this a
fiction? O sirs, we challenge you to find so blessed a fiction as this elsewhere! I saw
last Friday a sight, enough to make one weep indeed: there in the back-room of the house,
lay a fine youth, a member of this Church, sickening and near to death of consumption, and
he talked to me joyously of his prospect of entering into the rest which remaineth for the
people of God; there in the front-room, on the same floor, lay his sister, I suppose but
some two years younger, withering under the same disease; and there sat the tender mother
with her two children, thinking to lose them both within a few days, and though she said,
it was natural to weep, yet she could say even under this sharp trial, "The Lord's
name be magnified in it all." I say there was no fiction there. If you who think
there is a fiction in such things could live among Christians—if you could see the
poor cheerfully suffering —if you could mark the sick and how joyously they bear
their pains-if you could see the dying and hear their shouts of triumph, you would say,
"There is a reality here; there is something in true religion; let me
die the death of the righteous; let my last end be like his!"
But yet further; as we are sure there is a reality in the objects and in the experience of
true godliness, so are we quite clear that there is a reality in its privileges.
One of the privileges of the Christian is prayer. It is the believer's privilege,
to go to God an ask for what he wants, and have it. Now, sirs, I am absolutely certain
that prayer is a reality. I shall not tell here my own experience. One reads not his
love-letters in the streets, one tells not his own personal dealings with God in public;
but if there be a fact that can be proved by ten thousand instances, and which therefore
no reasonable man has any right to doubt —if there be anything that is true under
heaven, it is true that God hears prayer when it cometh not out of feigned lips, and is
offered through Jesus Christ. I know when we tell the story out, men smile and say,
"Ah, these were singular coincidences!" Why, I have seen in my life, answers to
prayer so remarkable, that if God had rent the curtain of the heavens and thrust out his
arm to work a deliverance, it could not have been more decidedly and distinctly a divine
interposition than when he listened to my feeble cry for help. I speak not of myself as
though I were different from other men in this, for it is so with all who have real
godliness. They know that God hears them; they prove it to-day; they intend to prove it at
this very hour.
Communion with Christ is another reality. The shadow of his cross is too refreshing
to be a dream, and the sunlight of his face is too bright to be a delusion. Precious
Jesus! thou art a storehouse of substantial delights and solid joy. Then, the privileges
of Christian Love towards one another are real. I know they are not with some men.
Why, look you at some of your fashionable Churches; if the poor people were to speak to
the richer ones, what would the rich ones think of them? Why, snap their heads half off,
and send them about their business! But where there is true Christianity, we feel that the
only place in the world where there can ever be liberty, equality, and fraternity, is in
the Church of Christ. To attempt this politically, is but to attempt an impossibility; but
to foster it in the Church of God, where we are all allied to God, is but to nourish the
very spirit of the gospel. I say there is a reality in Christian love, for I have seen it
among my flock; and though some do not show it as they should, yet my heart rejoices that
there is so much hearty brotherly love among you, and thus your religion is not a vain
thing.
Once more upon this point, for I am spending all my time here while I need it for other
points. The religion of Christ is evidently not a vain thing if you look at its effects.
We will not take you abroad now to tell you of the effects of the gospel of Christ in the
South Sea. We need not remind you of what it has done for the heathen, but let me tell you
what it has done for men here. Ah! brethren, you will not mind my telling out some
of the secrets, secrets that bring the tears to my eyes as I reflect upon them. When I
speak of the thief, the harlot, the drunkard, the sabbath-breaker, the swearer, I may say
"Such were some of you, but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye rejoice in
the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." How many a man has been going by the door there,
and has said "I'll go in and hear Old Spurgeon." He came in to make merriment of
the preacher, and very little that troubles him. But the man has stood there until
the Word has gone home to him, and he who was wont to beat his wife, and to make his home
a hell, has before long been to see me, and given me a grip of the hand and said,
"God Almighty bless you, sir; there is something in true religion!" "Well,
let us hear your tale," We have heard it, and delightful it has been in hundreds of
instances. "Very well, send your wife, and let us hear what she says about you."
The woman has come, and we have said "Well, what think you of your husband now,
ma'am?" "Oh, sir, such a change I never saw in my life! He is so kind to us; he
is like an angel now, and he seemed like a fiend before; Oh! that cursed drink, sir!
everything went to the public-house; and then if I went up to the house of God, he did
nothing but abuse me. Oh! to think that now he comes with me on Sunday; and the shop is
shut up, sir; and the children who used to be running about without a bit of shoe or
stocking, he takes them on his knee, and prays with them so sweetly. Oh! there is such a
change!" Surly people say "Will it last? Will it last?" Well, I have seen
it last the eight years of my pastorate, in many cases, and I know it will last for ever,
for I am persuaded that it is God's work. We will put it to all the Social Science
Societies; we will put it to all the different religions under heaven, whether they know
the art of turning sinners into saints; whether they can make lions into lambs, and ravens
into doves. Why I know a man who was as stingy a soul as could be, once, and now he is as
generous a man as walks God's earth. There is another, he was not immoral, but he was
passionate, and now he is as quiet as a lamb. It is grace that has altered these
characters, and yet you tell me that this is a fiction! I have not patience to answer you.
A fiction! If religion does not prove itself to be true by these facts, then do not
believe it; if it does not, when it comes into a neighborhood, turn it upside down, sweep
the cobwebs out of its sky, clean the houses, take the men out of the public-houses; if it
does not make swearers pray, and hard-hearted men tender and compassionate, then it is not
worth a button. But our religion does do all this, and therefore we boldly say, it is not
a vain thing.
Besides, to the man who really possesses it, it is his life. He is not a man and a
Christian, but he is all a Christian. He is not as some are, men and Members of
Parliament, who have many things to attend to, and attend Parliament also; but the man who
is thoroughly a Christian is a Christian every bit of him. He lives Christianity; he eats
it; he drinks it; he sleeps it; he walks it. Wherever you see him, he has his religion.
His religion is not like a man's regimentals which he can take off an go in undress; it is
inside of him; it is woven right through and through him. When the shuttle of his religion
was thrown, it went right through the core of his heart, and you must kill that man to get
his religion out of him. Racks may tear his nerves and sinews, but they cannot tear away
his hope, for it is essentially and vitally part and parcel of himself. Ah! my ladies and
gentlemen, you who think religion is no more real than the life of a butterfly, it is you
who are unreal in your fancies, and your follies; religion is the substance, and your life
is only the shadow! Oh! you workingmen, who think that to be godly is but to indulge a
dream, you know not what you say. All else is fiction but this; all else is but a
moon-beam phantom, but this is sun-lit reality. God give you grace to get it, and then you
will feel we have not spoken too strongly, but rather have spoken too little of that which
is essentially and really true.
II. Secondly, "It is not a vain thing"—that is, IT IS NO TRIFLE.
If religion be false, it is the basest imposition under heaven; but if the religion of
Christ be true, it is the most solemn truth that ever was known! It is not a thing that a
man dares to trifle with if it be true, for it is at his soul's peril to make a jest of
it. If it be not true it is detestable, but if it be true it deserves all a man's
faculties to consider it, and all his powers to obey it. It is not a trifle. Briefly
consider why it is not. It deals with your soul. If it dealt with your body it were
no trifle, for it is well to have the limbs of the body sound, but it has to do with your
soul. As much as a man is better than the garments that he wears, so much is the soul
better than the body. It is your immortal soul it deals with. Your soul has to live
for ever, and the religion of Christ deals with its destiny. Can you laugh at such words
as heaven and hell, at glory and at damnation? If you can, if you think these trifles,
then is the faith of Christ to be trifled with. Consider also with whom it connects
you—with God; before whom angels bow themselves and veil their faces. Is HE to
be trifled with? Trifle with your monarch if you will, but not with the King of kings, the
Lord of lords. Recollect that those who have ever known anything of it tell you it
is no child's play. The saints will tell you it is no trifle to be converted. They
will never forget the pangs of conviction, nor the joys of faith. They tell you it is no
trifle to have religion, for it carries them through all their conflicts, bears them up
under all distresses, cheers them under every gloom, and sustains them in all labour. They
find it no mockery. The Christian life to them is something so solemn, that when they
think of it they fall down before God, and say, "Hold thou me up and I shall be
safe." And sinners, too, when they are in their senses, find it no trifle.
When they come to die they find it no little thing to die without Christ. When conscience
gets the grip of them, and shakes them, they find it no small thing to be without a hope
of pardon—with guilt upon the conscience, and no means of getting rid of it. And,
sirs, true ministers of God feel it to be no trifle. I do myself feel it to be such
an awful thing to preach God's gospel, that if it were not "Woe unto me if I do not
preach the gospel," I would resign my charge this moment. I would not for the
proudest consideration under heaven know the agony of mind I felt but this one morning
before I ventured upon this platform! Nothing but the hope of winning souls from death and
hell, and a stern conviction that we have to deal with the grandest of all realities,
would bring me here.
A pastor's office is no sinecure. A man that has the destinies of a kingdom under his
control, may well feel his responsibility; but he who has the destiny of souls laid
instrumentally at his door, must travail in birth, and know a mother's pangs; he must
strive with God, and know an agony and yet a joy which no other man can meddle with. It is
no trifle to us, we do assure you; oh! make it no trifle to yourselves. I know I speak to
some triflers this morning, and perhaps to some trifling professors. Oh! professors, do
not live so as to make worldlings think that your religion is a trifling thing! Be
cheerful, but oh! be holy! Be happy, for that is your privilege; but oh! he
heavenly-minded, for that is your duty. Let men see that you are not flirting with Christ,
but that you are married to him. Let them see that you are not dabbling in this as in a
little speculation, but that it is the business of your life, the stern business of all
your powers to live to Christ, Christ also living in you.
III. But next, and very briefly, for time will fly; the religion of Christ is no vain
thing—that is, IT IS NO FOLLY.
Thinking men! Yes, by the way, we have had thinking men who have been able to think in so
circuitous a manner that they have thought it consistent with their consciences to profess
to hold the doctrines of the Church of England, and to be Romanists or infidels! God
deliver us from ever being able to think in their way! I always dislike the presence of
man who carries a gun with him which will discharge shot in a circle. Surely he is a very
ill companion, and if he should turn your enemy how are you to escape from him? Give me a
straightforward, downright man, who says what he means, and means what he says, and I
would sooner have the grossest reprobate who will speak plainly what he means, than I
would have the most dandy of gentlemen who would not hurt your feelings, but who will
profess to believe as you do, while in his heart he rejects every sentiment, and abhors
every thought which you entertain. I trust I do not speak to any persons here who can
think so circuitously as this. Still, you say, "Well, but the religion of Christ,
why, you see, it is the poor that receive it." Bless God it is! "Well, but not
many thinking people receive it." Now that is not true, but at the same time, if they
did not we would not particularly mind, because all thinking people do not think aright,
and very many of them think very wrongly indeed; but such a man as Newton could think and
yet receive the gospel, and master-minds, whom it is not mine just now to mention, have
bowed down before the sublimity of the simple revelation of Christ, and have felt it to be
their honour to lay their wealth of intellect at the feet of Christ. But, sirs, where is
the folly of true religion! Is it a folly to be providing for the world to come? "Oh,
no." Is it altogether a folly to believe that there is such a thing as justice? I
trow not. And that if there be such a thing as justice it involves punishment? There is no
great folly there. Well, then, is it any folly to perceive that there is no way of
escaping from the effects of our offences except justice be satisfied? Is that folly? And
if it be the fact that Christ has satisfied justice for all who trust in him, is it folly
to trust him? If it be a folly to escape from the flames of hell, then let us be fools. If
it be folly to lay hold of him who giveth us eternal life—oh, blessed folly! let us
be more foolish still. Let us take deep dives into the depths of this foolishness. God
forbid that we should do anything else but glory in being such fools as this for Christ's
sake! What, sirs, is your wisdom? your wisdom dwells in denying what your eyes can
see—a God; in denying what your consciences tell you—that you are guilty; in
denying what should be your best hope, what your spirit really craves after-redemption in
Christ Jesus. Your folly lies in following a perverted nature, instead of obeying the
dictates of one who points you to the right path. You are wise and you drink poison; we
are fools and we take the antidote. You are wise and you hunt the shadow; we are fools and
we grasp the substance. You are wise, and you labour and put your money into a bag which
is full of holes, and spend it for that which is not bread, and which never gives you
satisfaction; and we are fools enough to be satisfied, to be happy, to be perfectly
content with heaven and God—
Blessed folly! Oh, blessed folly! But it is
not a foolish thing; for it is your life. Ah, sirs, if you would have philosophy it
is in Christ. If you would accomplish the proudest feat of human intellect, it is to
attain to the knowledge of Christ crucified. Here the man whose mind makes him
elephantine, may find depths in which he may swim. Here the most recondite learning shall
find itself exhausted. Here the most brilliant imagination shall find its highest flights
exceeded. Here the critic shall have enough to criticise throughout eternity; here the
reviewer may review, and review again, and never cease. Here the man who understands
history may crown his knowledge by the history of God in the world; here men who would
know the secret, the greatest secret which heaven, and earth, and hell can tell, may find
it out, for the secret of the Lord is with them that fear him, and he will show them his
covenant. All the learning of man is doubtless folly to the angels, but the foolishness of
God in the gospel is wisdom to cherubim and seraphim, and by the Church shall be made
known to them in ages to come the manifold wisdom of God.
IV. And now for the last point, hurriedly again: "It is not a vain
thing,"—that is, IT IS NO SPECULATION, no hap-hazard.
People sometimes ask us what we think about the heathen, whether they will be saved or
not. Well, sirs, there is room for difference of opinion there; but I should like to know
what you think about yourselves—will you be saved or not?—for after all
that is a question of a deal more importance to you. Now the religion of Christ is not a
thing that puts a man into a salvable state, but it saves him. It is not a religion which
offers him something which perhaps may save him; no it saves him out and out, on
the spot. It is not a thing which says to a man "Now I have set you a-going, you must
keep on yourself." No, it goes the whole way through, and saves him from beginning to
end. He that says "Alpha" never stops till he can say "Omega" over
every soul. I say the religion of Christ: I know there are certain shadows of it which do
not carry such a reality as this with them, but I say that the religion of the Bible, the
religion of Jesus Christ, is an absolute certainty. "Whosoever believeth on him hath
eternal life, and he shall never perish, neither shall he come into condemnation."
"I give unto my sheep eternal life, and they shall never perish, neither shall any
pluck them out of my hand." "There is therefore now no condemnation to them
which are in Christ Jesus." "Well," says one, "I should like to know
what this very sure religion is." Well, it is this—"Believe on the Lord
Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved." Trust Christ with all that you have and you
shall be saved. "Well," says one, "but when?" Why, now, here, this
morning, on the spot: you shall be saved now. It is not a vain thing; it is not a
speculation, for it is true to you now. The word is nigh thee; on thy lip and in
thy heart. If thou wilt with thy heart believe on the Lord Jesus Christ thou shalt be
saved, and saved now. "There is therefore now no condemnation to them which
are Christ Jesus." This is a great and glorious truth, and it is true
to-day—"Whosoever believeth in him hath everlasting life." "But
is it true to me?" saith one. My text says "It is not a vain thing for you."
"Oh, it will suit other people; it will not do for me." It will suit you,
sir—"It is not a vain thing for you because it is your life." If you
have come up from the country, it is no vain thing for you, my dear friends; if you reside
in town, amidst its noise and occupations, it is not a vain thing for you, my dear
hearers. It is not a vain thing for any; if you do but lay hold of it, and it lays hold of
you—if you receive the reality and vitality of it into your soul, be you who you may,
it will not be a vain thing to you; not a "perhaps" and an "if," a
"but" and a "peradventure," but a "shall" and a
"will," a divine, an eternal, an everlasting and immutable certainty. Whosoever
believeth in Christ—let the earth shake; let the mountains rock; let the sun grow old
with age, and the moon quench her light—shall be saved. Unless God can change his
mind—and that is impossible; unless God can break his word—and to say so is
blasphemy; unless Christ's blood can lose its efficacy—and that can never be; unless
the Spirit can be anything but Eternal and Omnipotent—and to suppose so were
ridiculous—he that believeth on Christ, must at last, before the eternal throne, sing
hallelujah to God and the Lamb. "Well," says one. " 'tis a vain thing, I'm
sure, to me, for I'm only a poor working-man; religion no doubt, is a very fine thing for
gentlefolk, but it doesn't do for a man as has to work hard, for he's something else to
think on." Well, you are just the man that I should think it would do for. Why, it is
little enough you have here, my dear friend, and that is the very reason why you should
have eternal joys hereafter. If there be one man that religion can bless more than
another—and I do not know that there is—it is the poor man in his humble cot.
Why, this will put sweets into your cup; this will make your little into enough, and
sometimes into more than enough; you shall be rich while you are poor, and happy when
others think you are miserable. "Well," says the rich man, "It is nothing
to me; I do not see that it will suit me." Why, it is the very thing for you,
sir; in fact, you are the man who ought to have it, because, see what you have to lose
when you die, unless you have religion to make up for it! What a loss it will be for you
when you have to lose all your grandeur and substance! What a loss it will be for you to
go from the table of Dives to the hell of Dives! Surely it is not a vain thing for you.
"Well," says another, "but I am a moral and upright person; indeed, I do
not think anybody can pull my character to pieces." I hope nobody wants to; but this
is not a vain thing for you, because, let me tell you, that fine righteousness of yours is
only fine in your own esteem. If you could only see it as God sees it, you would see it to
be as full of holes as ever beggars' rags were when at last they were consigned to the
dust-heap. I say your fine righteousness, my lady, and yours, Sir Squire from the country,
no matter though you have given to the poor, and fed the hungry, and done a thousand good
things; if you are relying on them, you are relying on rotten rags, in which God can no
more accept you than he can accept the thief in his dishonesties. "All our
righteousness are as filthy rags, and we are all as an unclean thing." It is not a
vain thing for you, then. "Oh, but I am a young man just in my teens, and growing up
to manhood; I think I ought to have a little pleasure." So I think, friend, and if
you want a great deal of it, be a Christian. "Oh, but I think young people should
enjoy themselves." So do I. I never was an advocate for making sheep without their
first being lambs, and I would let the lambs skip as much as they like; but if you want to
lead a happy and a joyous life, give you young days to Jesus. Who says that a Christian is
miserable? Sir, you lie; I tell you to your teeth that you know not what Christianity is,
or else you would know that the Christians are the most joyous people under heaven. Young
man, I would like you to have a glorious youth; I would like you to have all the sparkle
and the brilliance which your young life can give you. What have you better than to live
and to enjoy yourself? But how are you to do it? Give your Creator your heart, and the
thing is done. It is not a vain thing for you. "Ah!" says the old man, "but
it is a vain thing for me; my time is over; if I had begun when I was a lad it might have
done; but I am settled in my habits now; I feel sure, sir, it is too late for me; when I
hear my grand-children say their prayers as they are going to bed, pretty dears, when they
are singing their evening hymn, I wish I was a child again; but my heart has got hard, and
I cannot say "Our Father' now; and when I do get to "Forgive us our trespasses
as we forgive them that trespass against us,' I get stuck there, I do not know how to get
over that, for I have not forgiven old Jones yet who robbed me in that lawsuit; and then
you know I am infirm, and have these rheumatics, and a hundred other pains; I do not think
religion will suit me." Well, it is just the very thing that will suit you, because
it will make you young again. What, "Can a man be born again when he is old?"
That is what Nicodemus asked. Yes, a man can be born again, so that the babe shall die a
hundred years old. Oh! to make the autumn of your life and the coming winter of your last
days into a new spring and a blessed summer-this is to be done by laying hold of Christ
now; and then you shall feel in your old veins the young blood of the new spiritual life,
and you will say, "I count the years I lived before a death, but now I begin
to live."
I do not know whether I have picked out every character; I am afraid I have not; but this
thing I know, though you may be under there, or up in the corner yonder where my eye
cannot reach you, yet you may hear this voice and I hope you may hear it when you are gone
from this house back to your country-towns and to your houses—
And this is the gospel which is preached unto you. "Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ"—that is trust him—"and thou shalt be saved." May God bless you for Christ's sake. Amen.
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