Morning, September 18, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit.” — Galatians 5:25

The two most important things in our godly religion are the life of faith and the walk of faith. Those who will correctly understand these are not far from mastering experiential theology, for they are vital points to a Christian. You will never find true faith unaccompanied by true godliness; on the other hand, you will never discover a truly holy life which is not rooted on a living faith in the righteousness of Christ. Woe to those who seek after the one without the other! There are some who cultivate faith and forget holiness; these may be very elevated in doctrine, but they shall be very deeply condemned, for they hold the truth in unrighteousness; and there are others who have striven after holiness of life, but have denied the faith, like the Pharisees of old, of whom the Master said, they were “whitewashed tombs.” We must have faith, for this is the foundation; we must have holiness of life, for this is the superstructure. Of what service is the mere foundation of a building to a man in the day of a hurricane? Can he hide himself in the foundation? He wants a house to cover him, as well as a foundation for that house. Even so we need the superstructure of spiritual life if we would have comfort in the day of doubt. But don’t seek a holy life without faith, for that would be to erect a house which can afford no permanent shelter, because it has no foundation on a rock. Let faith and life be put together, and, like the two supports of an arch, they will make our devotion enduring. Like light and heat streaming from the same sun, they are alike full of blessing. Like the two pillars of the temple, they are for glory and for beauty. They are two streams from the fountain of grace; two lamps lit with holy fire; two olive trees watered by heavenly care. O Lord, give us this day life inside, and it will reveal itself outside to your glory.

Evening, September 17, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Encourage him.” — Deuteronomy 1:38

God employs his people to encourage one another. He did not say to an angel, “Gabriel, my servant Joshua is about to lead my people into Canaan–go, encourage him.” God never works needless miracles; if his purposes can be accomplished by ordinary means, he will not use a miraculous agency. Gabriel would not have been half so well fitted for the work as Moses. A brother’s sympathy is more precious than an angel’s mission. The angel, swift of wing, knows the Master’s bidding better the people’s temperament. An angel had never experienced the hardness of the road, nor seen the fiery serpents, nor had he led the stubborn multitude in the wilderness as Moses had done. We should be glad that God usually works for man, by man. It forms a bond of brotherhood, and being mutually dependent on one another, we are fused more completely into one family. Brethren, take the text as God’s message to you. Labor to help others, and especially strive to encourage them. Talk encouragingly to the young and anxious enquirer; lovingly try to remove stumbling blocks out of his way. When you find a spark of grace in his heart, kneel down and blow it into a flame. Leave the young believer to discover the roughness of the road by degrees, but tell him of the strength which dwells in God, of the sureness of the promise, and of the charms of communion with Christ. Aim to comfort the sorrowful, and to speak life to the despondent. Speak a word in season to him that is weary, and encourage those who are fearful, to go on their way with gladness. God encourages you by his promises; Christ encourages you as he points to the heaven he has won for you, and the spirit encourages you as he works in you to will and to do of his own will and pleasure. Imitate divine wisdom, and encourage others, according to the word of this evening.

Morning, September 17, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Bring him to me.” — Mark 9:19

In despair, the poor disappointed father turned away from the disciples to their Master. His son was in the worst possible condition, and all measures had failed, but the miserable child was soon delivered from the evil one when the parent in faith obeyed the Lord Jesus’ word, “Bring him to me.” Children are a precious gift from God, but much anxiety comes with them. They may be a great joy or a great bitterness to their parents; they may be filled with the Spirit of God, or possessed with the spirit of evil. In all cases, the Word of God gives us one recipe for the curing of all their ills, “Bring him to me.” Oh,  for more agonizing prayer on their behalf while they are yet babes! Sin is there, let our prayers begin to attack it. Our cries for our offspring should precede those cries which portend their actual arrival into a world of sin. In the days of their youth we shall see sad indications of that dumb and deaf spirit which will neither pray correctly, nor hear the voice of God in the soul, but Jesus still commands, “Bring them to me.” When they are grown up they may wallow in sin and foam with enmity against God; then when our hearts are breaking we should remember the great Physician’s words, “Bring them to me.” We must never cease to pray until they cease to breathe. No case is hopeless while Jesus lives.

The Lord sometimes tolerates his people to be driven into a corner so that they may experientially know how necessary he is to them. Ungodly children, when they show us our own powerlessness against the depravity of their hearts, drive us to flee to the strong for strength, and this is a great blessing to us. Whatever our morning’s need may be, let it like a strong current bear us to the ocean of divine love. Jesus can soon remove our sorrow; he delights to comfort us. Let us hurry to him while he waits to meet us.

Evening, September 16, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Am I the sea, or the sea monster, that You set a guard over me?” — Job 7:12

This was a strange question for Job to ask of the Lord. He felt himself to be too insignificant to be so strictly watched and humiliated, and he hoped that he was not so unruly as to need to be so restrained. The enquiry was natural from one surrounded with such insufferable miseries, but after all, it is capable of a very humbling answer. It is true man is not the sea, but he is even more troublesome and unruly. The sea obediently respects its boundary, and even though that boundary is but a belt of sand, it does not overleap the limit. Mighty as it is, it hears the divine constraint, and even when raging with a hurricane it respects the word; but self-willed man defies heaven and oppresses earth, and neither is there any end to his rebellious rage. The sea, obedient to the moon, ebbs and flows with ceaseless regularity, and thus renders an active as well as a passive obedience; but man, restless beyond his domain, sleeps during his times of duty, lethargic where he should be active. He will neither come nor go at the divine command, but sullenly prefers to do what he should not, and to leave undone that which is required of him. Every drop in the ocean, every beaded bubble, and every frothy flake of foam, every shell and pebble feel the power of law, and yield or move at once. Oh, that our natures were but one thousandth part as much conformed to the will of God! We call the sea fickle and false, but how constant it is! Since our fathers’ days, and the millennia before them, the sea is where it was, beating on the same cliffs to the same tune; we know where to find it, it doesn’t abandon its bed, and doesn’t change in its ceaseless rumble; but where is man, vain, fickle man? Can the wise man guess by what folly he will next be seduced from his obedience? We need more watching than the rolling sea, and are far more rebellious. Lord, rule us for your own glory. Amen.

Morning, September 16, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Partakers of the divine nature.” — 2 Peter 1:4

To be a partaker of the divine nature is not, of course, to become God. That cannot happen. The essence of Deity is not to be participated in by the one created. Between the creature and the Creator there must be fixed forever a gulf in respect to essence; but as the first man Adam was made in the image of God, so we, by the renewal of the Holy Spirit, are in celestial sense made in the image of the Most High, and are partakers of the divine nature. We are, by grace, made like God. “God is love;” we become love–“He that loves is born of God.” God is truth; we become true, and we love that which is true: God is good, and he makes us good by his grace, so that we become the pure in heart who shall see God. Moreover, we become partakers of the divine nature in even a higher sense than this–in fact, in as lofty a sense as can be conceived, short of our being absolutely divine. Do we not become members of the body of the divine person of Christ? Yes, the same blood which flows in the head flows in the hand: and the same life which quickens Christ quickens his people, for “You are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God.” In addition, as if this were not enough, we are married to Christ. He has betrothed us to himself in righteousness and in faithfulness, and he who is joined to the Lord is one spirit. Oh, marvelous mystery! We look into it, but who shall understand it? One with Jesus–so one with him that the branch is not more one with the vine than we are a part of the Lord, our Savior, and our Redeemer! While we rejoice in this, let us remember that those who are made partakers of the divine nature will manifest their high and holy relationship in their communication with others, and make it evident by their daily walk and manner of life that they have escaped the corruption that is in the world through lust. Oh, for more godly holiness of life!

Evening, September 15, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“A people near to him.” — Psalm 148:14

The dispensation –God’s divinely ordained order — of the old covenant was that of distance. Even when God appeared to his servant Moses, he said, “Do not come near here; remove your sandals from your feet;” and when he displayed himself upon Mount Sinai, to his own chosen and separated people, one of the first commands was, “You shall set bounds for the people all around.” Both in the sacred worship of the tabernacle and the temple, the thought of distance was always prominent. The majority of the people did not even enter the outer court. Into the inner court none but the priests might dare to intrude; while into the innermost place, or the holy of holies, the high priest entered only once in the year. It was as if the Lord in those early ages would teach man that sin was so utterly loathsome to him, that he must treat men as lepers put without the camp; and when he came nearest to them, he yet made them feel the width of the separation between a holy God and an impure sinner.

When the gospel came, we were placed on quite another footing. The word “Go” was exchanged for “Come;” distance was made to give place to nearness, and we who in times before were far off, were made close by the blood of Jesus Christ. Incarnate Deity has no wall of fire about it. “Come to me, all you that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,” is the joyful proclamation of God as he appears in human form. No longer does he teach the leper the nature of his leprosy by setting him at a distance, but instead by himself suffering the penalty of his defilement. What a state of safety and privilege is this nearness to God through Jesus! Do you know it by experience? If you know it, are you living in the power of it? Marvelous is this nearness, yet it is to be followed by a dispensation of greater nearness still, when it shall be said, “The tabernacle of God is with men, and he shall dwell among them.” Let it come quickly, O Lord.

Morning, September 15, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“He will not fear evil tidings.” — Psalm 112:7

Christian, you ought not dread the arrival of evil reports, because if you are distressed by them, what makes you different than other men? Other men don’t have your God to run to; they have never proved his faithfulness as you have done, and it is no wonder if they are bowed down with alarm and cowed with fear. You, however profess to be of another spirit; you have been birthed again into life and hope, and your heart lives in heaven and not on earthly things; now, if you are seen to be distracted as other men, what is the value of that grace which you profess to have received? Where is the dignity of that new nature which you claim to possess?

Again, if you should be filled with alarm, as others are, you would, doubtless, be led into the sins so common to others under trying circumstances. The ungodly, when they are overtaken by evil tidings, rebel against God; they grumble, and think that God deals hard with them. Will you fall into that same sin? Will you provoke the Lord as they do?

Moreover, unconverted men often run to the wrong methods in order to escape from difficulties, and you will be sure to do the same if your mind yields to the short-term pressure. Trust in the Lord, and wait patiently for him. Your wisest course is to do as Moses did at the Red Sea: “Stand still and see the salvation of God.” For if you give way to fear when you hear of evil tidings, you will be unable to meet the trouble with that calm composure which strengthens for duty, and sustains under adversity. How can you glorify God if you play the coward? Saints have often sung God’s high praises in the fires, but will your doubting and dejection –as if you had no one to help you — magnify the Most High? Instead then, take courage, and relying in sure confidence upon the faithfulness of your covenant God, “Don’t let your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”

Evening, September 14, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“I acknowledged my sin to You, and my iniquity I did not hide; I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the Lord”; and You forgave the guilt of my sin.” — Psalm 32:5

David’s grief for sin was bitter. Its effects were visible upon his physical body: “His body wasted away;” “his vitality was drained away as with the fever heat of summer.” He could find no remedy, until he made a full confession before the throne of the heavenly grace. He tells us that for a time he kept silence, and his heart became more and more filled with grief; like a mountain lake whose outlet is blocked up, his soul was swollen with torrents of sorrow. He fashioned excuses; he endeavored to divert his thoughts, but it was all to no purpose; like a festering sore his anguish gathered, and since he would not use the lancet of confession, his spirit was full of torment, and knew no rest. At last it came to this, that he must return unto his God in humble contrition, or die outright; so, he hastened to the mercy seat, and there unrolled the volume of his iniquities before the all-seeing One, acknowledging all the evil of his ways in language such as you read in the fifty-first and other penitential Psalms. Having done this, a work so simple but yet so difficult to his pride, he received at once the token of divine forgiveness; the bones which had been broken were made to rejoice, and he came forth from his prayer room to sing of the blessedness of the man whose transgression is forgiven. See the value of a grace-worked confession of sin! It is to be prized above all price, for in every case where there is a genuine, gracious confession, mercy is freely given, not because the repentance and confession deserve mercy, but for Christ’s sake. Thanks be to God, there is always healing for the broken heart; the fountain is ever flowing to cleanse us from our sins. Truly, O Lord, you are a God “ready to pardon!” Therefore, we will acknowledge our iniquities.

Morning, September 14, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“They took Him along with them in the boat, just as He was; and other boats were with Him.” — Mark 4:36

Jesus was the Lord and High Admiral of the sea that night, and his presence preserved the whole convoy. It is good to sail with Jesus, even though it might be in a little ship. When we sail in Christ’s company, we may not assume to have fair weather, for great storms may toss the vessel which carries the Lord himself, and we must not expect to find the sea less turbulent around our little boat. If we go with Jesus we must be content to fare as he fares; and when the waves are rough to him, they will be rough to us. It is by tempest and tossing that we shall come to land, as he did before us.

When the storm swept over Galilee’s dark lake all countenances gathered blackness, and all hearts dreaded shipwreck. When all human help was useless, the slumbering Savior arose, and with a word, transformed the riot of the tempest into the deep quiet of a calm; then all the little vessels came to rest as well as that which carried the Lord. Jesus is the star of the sea; and though there is sorrow upon the sea, when Jesus is on it there is joy too. May our hearts make Jesus their anchor, their rudder, their lighthouse, their lifeboat, and their harbor. His Church is the Admiral’s flagship, let us attend her movements, and cheer her officers with our presence. He himself is the great attraction; let us follow ever in his wake, mark his signals, steer by his chart, and never fear while he is within earshot. Not one ship in the convoy shall wreck; the great Commodore will steer every sloop in safety to the desired haven. By faith we will slip our lines for another day’s cruise, and sail forth with Jesus into a sea of tribulation. Winds and waves will not spare us, but they all obey him; and, therefore, whatever squalls may occur without, faith shall feel a blessed calm within. He is ever in the center of the weather-beaten company: let us rejoice in him. His vessel has reached the haven, and so shall ours.

Evening, September 13, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“This man receives sinners.” — Luke 15:2

Observe the disdain and condescension expressed here. This Man, who towers above all other men, holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners–this Man receives sinners. This Man, who is no other than the eternal God, before whom angels veil their faces–this Man receives sinners. It needs an angel’s tongue to describe his mighty act of lowering down to love us. That any of us should be willing to seek after the lost is nothing wonderful–they are of our own race; but that he, the offended God, against whom the transgression has been committed, should take upon himself the form of a servant, and bear the sin of many, and should then be willing to receive the vilest of the vile, this is marvelous.

“This Man receives sinners;” not, however, that they may remain sinners, but he receives them that he may pardon their sins, justify their person, cleanse their hearts by his purifying word, preserve their souls by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, and enable them to serve him, to proclaim his virtues, and to have communion with him. Into his heart’s love he receives sinners, takes them from the dunghill, and wears them as jewels in his crown; plucks them as brands from the burning, and preserves them as costly monuments of his mercy. None are so precious in Jesus’ sight as the sinners for whom he died. When Jesus receives sinners, he doesn’t have some outdoor reception place, no casual porch where he charitably entertains them as men do passing beggars, but he opens the golden gates of his royal heart, and receives the sinner right into himself–yes, he admits the humble, remorseful sinner into personal union and makes him a member of his body, of his flesh, and of his bones. There was never such a reception as this! This fact is still most sure this evening, he is still receiving sinners: would to God that sinners would receive him.

Morning, September 13, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Passing through the valley of Baca they make it a spring; The early rain also covers it with blessings.”  — Psalm 84:6

This teaches us that the comfort obtained by one may often prove of use to another; just as wells would be used by the group who came after. We read a book full of comfort, which is like Jonathan’s rod, dropping with honey. Aha! We think our brother has been here before us, and dug this well for us as well as for himself. Many writings like a “Night of Weeping,” “Midnight Harmonies,” an “Eternal Day,” “A Crook in the Lot,” a “Comfort for Mourners,” have been a well dug by a pilgrim for himself, but has proved quite as useful to others. Especially we notice this in the Psalms, such as that beginning, “Why are You cast down, O my soul?” Travelers have been delighted to see the footprint of man on a barren shore, and we love to see the waymarks of pilgrims while passing through the valley of tears.

The pilgrims dig the well, but, strange enough, it fills from the top instead of the bottom. We use the agencies of grace, but the blessing does not spring from those agencies. We dig a well, but heaven fills it with rain. The horse is prepared against the day of battle, but safety is of the Lord. The activities are connected with the end, but they do not of themselves produce it. See here the rain fills the pools, so that the wells become useful as reservoirs for the water; our labor is not lost, but it does not supersede divine help.

Grace may well be compared to rain for its purity, for its refreshing and lifegiving influence, for its unique descent from above, and for the sovereignty with which it is given or withheld. May our readers have showers of blessing, and may the wells they have dug be filled with water! Oh, what are methods and rules without the smile of heaven! They are as clouds without rain, and pools without water. O God of love, open the windows of heaven and pour us out a blessing!

Evening, September 11, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“O Lord, lead me in Your righteousness because of my foes. ” — Psalms 5:8

The hostility is of the world very bitter against the people of Christ. Men will forgive a thousand faults in others, but they will magnify the most trivial offense in the followers of Jesus. Instead of vainly regretting this, let us turn it to our account, and since so many are watching for our stumbling, let this be a special motive for walking very carefully before God. If we live carelessly, the lynx-eyed world will soon see it, and with its hundred tongues, it will spread the story, exaggerated and emblazoned by the zeal of slander. They will shout triumphantly. “Aha! So would we have it! See how these Christians act! They are hypocrites, every one.” Consequently, much damage will be done to the cause of Christ, and much insult offered to his name. The cross of Christ is in itself an offense to the world; let us take care that we add no offense of our own. It is “to the Jews a stumbling block;” let us take care that we put no stumbling blocks where there are enough already. “To the Greeks it is foolishness;” let us not add our folly to give a point to the scorn with which the worldly-wise deride the gospel. How critical should we be of ourselves! How unbending with our consciences! In the presence of adversaries who will misrepresent our best deeds, and impugn our motives where they cannot criticize our actions, how prudent should we be! As noted in Pilgrim’s Progress, pilgrims travel as suspected persons through Vanity Fair. Not only are we under surveillance, but there are more spies than we know of. The espionage is everywhere, at home and abroad. If we fall into the enemies’ hands we may sooner expect generosity from a wolf, or mercy from a sadist, than anything like patience with our shortcomings from men who spice up their infidelity towards God with scandals against his people. O Lord, lead us ever, lest our enemies trip us up!

Morning, September 11, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Be separate.” — 2 Corinthians 6:17

The Christian, while in the world, is not to be of the world. He should be distinguished from it as the great object of his life. To him, “to live,” should be “Christ.” Whether he eats, or drinks, or whatever he does, he should do all to God’s glory. You may lay up treasure; but lay it up in heaven, where neither moth nor rust corrupts, where thieves will not break in nor steal. You may strive to be rich; but let it be our ambition to be “rich in faith,” and good works. You may have pleasure; but when you are happy, sing psalms and make melody in your hearts to the Lord. In your spirit, as well as in your aim, you should differ from the world. Waiting humbly before God, always conscious of his presence, delighting in communion with him, and seeking to know his will, you will prove that you are of a heavenly race. And you should be separate from the world in your actions. If a thing is right, though you lose by it, it must be done; if it is wrong, though you would gain by it, you must scorn the sin for your Master’s sake. You must have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them. Walk worthy of your high calling and dignity. Remember, Oh Christian, that you are a son of the King of kings. Therefore, keep yourself unspotted from the world. Don’t soil the fingers which are soon to sweep celestial strings; don’t let these eyes become the windows of lust which are soon to see the King in his beauty; don’t let those feet be defiled in miry places, which are soon to walk the golden streets; don’t let those hearts be filled with pride and bitterness which are before long to be filled with heaven, and to overflow with ecstatic joy.

Then rise my soul! and soar away,

Above the thoughtless crowd;

Above the pleasures of the gay,

And splendours of the proud;

Up where eternal beauties bloom,

And pleasures all divine;

here wealth, that never can consume,

And endless glories shine.

Evening, September 10, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Wolves in the evening.” — Habakkuk 1:8

While preparing this present volume, this particular expression recurred to me so frequently, that in order to be rid of its constant nuisance I determined to give a page to it. The evening wolf, infuriated by a day of hunger, was fiercer and more ravenous than he would have been in the morning. Might it be that the furious creatures represent our doubts and fears after a day of distraction of mind, losses in business, and perhaps mean-spirited taunting from our fellow men? How our thoughts howl in our ears, “Where is now your God?” How voracious and greedy they are, swallowing up all suggestions of comfort, and remaining as hungry as before. Great Shepherd, slay these evening wolves, and bid your sheep to lie down in green pastures, undisturbed by insatiable unbelief. Note how the fiends of hell are like evening wolves, for when the flock of Christ are in a cloudy and dark day, and their sun seems going down, they hasten to tear and to devour. They will scarcely attack the Christian in the daylight of faith, but in the gloom of conflict of the soul they fall upon him. Oh, you who has laid down your life for the sheep, preserve them from the fangs of the wolf.

False teachers who craftily and industriously hunt for our precious lives, devouring men by their fabrications, are as dangerous and detestable as evening wolves. Darkness is their element, deceit is their character, destruction is their end. We are most in danger from them when they wear the sheep’s clothing. Blessed is he who is kept from them, for thousands are made the prey of grievous wolves that enter within the fold of the church.

What a wonder of grace it is when fierce persecutors are converted, for then the wolf dwells with the lamb, and men of cruel ungovernable dispositions become gentle and teachable. Oh Lord, convert many such; for such we will pray tonight.

Morning, September 10, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“And He went up on the mountain and summoned those whom He Himself wanted, and they came to Him.” — Mark 3:13

Here was sovereignty in play. Impatient believers may fret and fume, because they are not called to the highest places in the ministry; but reader, take joy that Jesus calls whom he wills. If he shall leave me as a doorkeeper in his house, I will cheerfully bless him for his grace in permitting me to do anything in his service. The call of Christ’s servants comes from above. Jesus stands on the mountain, eternally above the world in holiness, sincerity, love and power. Those whom he calls must go up the mountain to him, they must seek to rise to his level by living in constant communion with him. They may not be able to mount to historic honors, or attain scholastic eminence, but they must like Moses go up into the mount of God and have intimate communication with the unseen God, or they will never be fitted to proclaim the gospel of peace. Jesus set himself apart to hold high fellowship with the Father, and we must enter into the same divine companionship if we would bless our fellow men. It is no wonder that the apostles were clothed with power when they came down fresh from the mountain where Jesus was. This morning we must endeavor to ascend the mount of communion, that there we may be ordained to the lifework for which we are set apart. Don’t let us see the face of men today till we have seen Jesus. Time spent with him is invested with great spiritual returns. We too shall cast out demons and work wonders if we go down into the world clothed with that divine energy which Christ alone can give. It is of no use going to the Lord’s battle till we are armed with heavenly weapons. We must see Jesus; this is essential. At the mercy-seat we will linger until he shall reveal himself to us in a way that he does not to the world around us, and until we can truthfully say, “We were with him in the Holy Mount.”

Evening, September 9, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Around the throne were twenty-four thrones; and upon the thrones I saw twenty-four elders sitting, clothed in white garments, and golden crowns on their heads.” — Revelation 4:4

These representatives of the saints in heaven are said to be around the throne. In the passage in Song of Songs, where Solomon sings of the King sitting at his table, some render it “a round table.” From this, some expositors –I think, without straining the text — have said, “There is an equality among the saints.” That idea is conveyed by the equal nearness of the four and twenty elders. The condition of glorified spirits in heaven is that of nearness to Christ, clear vision of his glory, constant access to his court, and familiar fellowship with his person: nor is there any difference in this respect between one saint and another, but all the people of God, apostles, martyrs, ministers, or private and obscure Christians, shall all be seated near the throne, where they shall forever gaze upon their exalted Lord, and be satisfied with his love. They shall all be near to Christ, all overwhelmed with his love, all eating and drinking at the same table with him, all equally beloved as his favorites and friends even if not all equally rewarded as servants.

Let believers on earth imitate the saints in heaven in their nearness to Christ. Let us on earth be as the elders are in heaven, sitting around the throne. May Christ be the object of our thoughts, the center of our lives. How can we endure to live at such a distance from our Beloved? Lord Jesus, draw us nearer to you. Say to us, “Abide in me, and I in you;” and permit us to sing, “His left hand is under my head, and his right hand embraces me.”

O lift me higher, nearer thee,

And as I rise more pure and meet,

O let my soul’s humility

Make me lie lower at thy feet;

Less trusting self, the more I prove

The blessed comfort of thy love.

Morning, September 9, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Call to Me and I will answer you, and I will tell you great and mighty things, which you do not know.” — Jeremiah 33:3

There are different translations of these words. One version renders it, “I will show you great and fortified things.” Another, “Great and reserved things.” Now, there are reserved and special things in Christian experience: all the developments of spiritual life are equally easy of attainment. There are the common frames of mind and feelings of repentance, and faith, and joy, and hope, which are enjoyed by the entire family of God; but there is an upper realm of rhapsody, of communion, and conscious union with Christ, which is far from being the common dwelling-place of believers. We all don’t have the high privilege of John, to lean into Jesus’ embrace; nor of Paul, to be caught up into the third heaven. There are heights in speculative knowledge of the things of God which the eagle’s eye of insight and philosophic thought have never seen: God alone can bear us there; but the chariot in which he takes us up, and the fiery steeds with which that chariot is dragged, are prevailing prayers. Prevailing prayer is victorious over the God of mercy: “Yes, he wrestled with the angel and prevailed; He wept and sought His favor. He found Him at Bethel And there He spoke with us.” Prevailing prayer takes the Christian to Carmel with Elijah, and enables him to cover heaven with clouds of blessing, and earth with floods of mercy. Prevailing prayer bears the Christian aloft to Pisgah with Moses, and shows him the inheritance reserved; it elevates us to Tabor with the disciples and transfigures us, until in the likeness of his Lord, we become like him also in this world. If you would reach to something higher than an ordinary groveling experience, look to the Rock that is higher than you, and gaze with the eye of faith through the window of unrelenting prayer. When you open the window on your side, it will not be bolted on the other.

Evening, September 8, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“And what is the surpassing greatness of His power toward us who believe. These are in accordance with the working of the strength of His might  which He brought about in Christ, when He raised Him from the dead.” — Ephesians 1:19-20

In the resurrection of Christ, as in our salvation, there was made evident nothing short of  divine power. What shall we say of those who think that conversion is wrought by the free will of man, and is due to his own better quality of nature? When we shall see the dead rise from the grave by their own power, then may we expect to see ungodly sinners of their own free will turning to Christ. It is not the word preached, nor the word read in itself; all life giving power proceeds from the Holy Spirit. This power was irresistible. All the soldiers and the high priests could not keep the body of Christ in the tomb; Death himself could not hold Jesus in his bonds: even so,  irresistible is the power put forth in the believer when he is raised to newness of life. No sin, no corruption, no devils in hell nor sinners upon earth, can stay the hand of God’s grace when it intends to convert a man. If God omnipotently says, “You shall,” man can not say, “I will not.” Observe that the power which raised Christ from the dead was glorious. It reflected honor to God and produced dismay in the hosts of evil. We know there is great glory to God in the conversion of every sinner. It was everlasting power. “Christ being raised from the dead dies no more; death has no more dominion over him.” So we, being raised from the dead, go not back to our dead works nor to our old corruption, but we live as to God. “Because he lives we live also.” “For we are dead, and our life is hid with Christ in God.” “Like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life.” Lastly, in the text take note the union of the new life to Jesus. The same power which raised the Head works life in the members. What a blessing to be made alive, together with Christ!

My Note: We had some part in this…: “ In Him, you also, after listening to the message of truth, the gospel of your salvation—having also believed, you were sealed in Him with the Holy Spirit of promise, who is given as a pledge of our inheritance, with a view to the redemption of God’s own possession, to the praise of His glory.”Eph  1:12-14, emphasis mine.

Morning, September 8, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

” From Me comes your fruit.” — Hosea 14:8

Our fruit comes from our God in our union. The fruit of the branch is directly traceable to the root. Sever the connection, the branch dies, and no fruit is produced. By virtue of our union with Christ we bring forth fruit. Every bunch of grapes has been first in the root, it has passed through the stem, and flowed through the sap vessels, and fashioned itself externally into fruit, but it was first in the stem; so also every good work was first in Christ, and then is brought forth in us. Oh Christian, prize this precious union to Christ; for it must be the source of all the fruitfulness which you can hope to know. If you were not joined to Jesus Christ, you would be an unproductive bough indeed.

Our fruit comes from God in our spiritual provision. When the dewdrops fall from heaven, when the clouds look down from on high, and are about to distil their liquid treasure, when the bright sun swells the berries of the cluster, each of these heavenly benefits may whisper to the tree and say, “From me is your fruit found.” The fruit owes much to the root–that is essential to fruitfulness–but it owes very much also to external influences. We owe so much to God’s grace and provision, in which he provides us constantly with reviving, teaching, comfort, strength, or whatever else we want. To this we owe our all of usefulness or virtue.

Our fruit comes from God in our cultivation. The gardener’s sharp-edged knife promotes the fruitfulness of the tree, by thinning the clusters, and by cutting off superfluous shoots. So is it, Christian, with that pruning which the Lord gives to you. “I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit, He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit, He prunes it so that it may bear more fruit.” Since our God is the author of our spiritual virtues, let us give to him all the glory of our salvation.

Evening, September 7, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

 “There is anxiety by the sea, it cannot be calmed.” Jeremiah 49:23 (There is sorrow on the sea… KJV)

We know little of what sorrow may be upon the sea at this moment. We are safe in our quiet room, but far away on the ocean the hurricane may be viciously seeking for the lives of men. Hear how the death fiends howl among the rigging; how every timber shudders as the waves beat like battering rams upon the vessel! God help you, poor drenched and wearied ones! My prayer goes up to the great Lord of sea and land, that he will make the storm a calm, and bring you to your desired port! Nor should I only offer prayer, I should try to benefit those robust men who risk their lives so constantly. Have I ever done anything for them? What can I do? Often the agitated sea does swallow up the mariner! Thousands of corpses lie where pearls lie deep. There is death-sorrow on the sea, which is echoed in the long wail of widows and orphans. The salt of the sea is in many eyes of mothers and wives. Remorseless breakers, you have devoured the love of women, and the mainstay of households. Imagine what a resurrection there shall be from the caverns of the deep when the sea gives up her dead! Until then there will be sorrow on the sea. As if in sympathy with the woes of earth, the sea is forever fretting along a thousand shores, wailing with a sorrowful cry like her own birds, booming with a hollow crash of unrest, raging with uproarious discontent, wearing away with hoarse fury, or jingling with the voices of ten thousand murmuring pebbles. The roar of the sea may be joyous to those with joyful spirit, but to the son of sorrow the wide, wide ocean is even more forlorn than the wide, wide world. This is not our rest, and the restless waves tell us so. There is a land where there is no more sea–our faces are steadfastly set towards it; we are going to the place of which the Lord has spoken. Until then, we cast our sorrows on the Lord who trod the sea of old, and who makes a way for his people through the its depths.

Morning, September 7, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Being unable to get to Him because of the crowd, they removed the roof above Him; and when they had dug an opening, they let down the pallet on which the paralytic was lying.” — Mark 2:4

Faith is full of inventiveness. The house was full, a crowd blocked the door, but faith found a way of getting to the Lord and placing the paralyzed man before him. If we cannot get sinners where Jesus is by ordinary methods we must use extraordinary ones. It seems, according to Luke 5:19, that roof tiles had to be removed, which would make dust and cause a fair amount of danger to those below, but where the case is very urgent we must not mind running some risks and upsetting some decorum. Jesus was there to heal, and therefore fall what might, faith ventured all so that her poor paralyzed charge might have his sins forgiven. Oh, that we had more daring faith among us! Cannot we, dear reader, seek it this morning for ourselves and for our fellow workers, and will we not try today to perform some gallant act for the love of souls and the glory of the Lord?

The world is constantly inventing; genius serves all the purposes of human desire: cannot faith invent too, and reach by some new means the outcasts who lie perishing around us? It was the presence of Jesus which excited victorious courage in the four bearers of the paralyzed man: is not the Lord among us now? Have we seen his face for ourselves this morning? Have we felt his healing power in our own souls? If so, then through door, through window, or through roof, let us, breaking through all impediments, labor to bring unfortunate souls to Jesus. All methods are good and proper when faith and love are truly set on winning souls. If hunger for bread can break through stone walls, surely hunger for souls is not to be hindered in its efforts. O Lord, make us quick to suggest methods of reaching your poor ones sin with sick, and make us bold to carry them despite all perils.

Evening, September 6, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the Law.” — Galatians 5:18

He who looks at his own character and position from a legal point of view, will not only despair when he comes to the end of his evaluation, but if he is a wise man he will despair at the beginning; for if we are to be judged on the basis of the law, there shall no person living that would be justified. How happy are we to know that we dwell in the domains of grace and not of law! When thinking of my state before God the question is not, “Am I perfect in myself before the law?” but, “Am I perfect in Christ Jesus?” That is a very different matter. We need not enquire, “Am I without sin naturally?” but, “Have I been washed in the fountain opened for sin and for uncleanness?” It is not “Am I in myself well pleasing to God?” but it is “Am I accepted in the Beloved?” The Christian views his evidences from the top of Sinai, and grows alarmed concerning his salvation; it would be far better if he read his title by the light of Calvary. “Why,” says he, “my faith has unbelief in it, it is not able to save me.” Suppose he had considered the object of his faith instead of his faith, then he would have said, “There is no failure in him, and therefore I am safe.” He sighs over his hope: “Ah! My hope is blemished and darkened by an anxious concern about present things; how can I be accepted?” Had he regarded the ground of his hope, he would have seen that the promise of God stands sure, and that whatever our doubts may be, the oath and promise never fail. Ah! Believer, it is safer always for you to be led of the Spirit into the liberty of the gospel than to wear legal shackles. Judge yourself at what Christ is rather than at what you are. Satan will try to ruin your peace by reminding you of your sinfulness and imperfections: you can only meet his accusations by faithfully adhering to the gospel and refusing to wear the yoke of bondage.

Morning, September 6, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“In the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you appear as lights in the world.” — Philippians 2:15

We use lights to illuminate and reveal. A Christian should so shine in his life, that a person could not live with him a week without knowing the gospel. His manner of life should be such that all who are around him should clearly perceive whose he is, and whom he serves; and they should see the image of Jesus reflected in his daily actions. Lights are intended for guidance. We are to help those around us who are in the dark. We are to hold forth to them the Word of life. We are to point sinners to the Savior, and the weary to a divine place of rest. Men sometimes read their Bibles, and fail to understand them; we should be ready, like Philip, to instruct any who inquire in the meaning of God’s Word, the way of salvation, and the life of godliness. Lights are also used for warning. On our rocks and shoals a lighthouse is sure to be erected. Christians should know that there are many false lights shown everywhere in the world, and therefore the right light is needed. Satan’s destructive servants are always abroad, tempting the ungodly to sin under the name of pleasure; they raise the wrong light, so we must be ones to put up the true light upon every dangerous rock, to point out every sin, and tell what it leads to, that so we may be clear of the blood of all men, shining as lights in the world. Lights also have a very cheering influence, and so have Christians. A Christian ought to be a comforter, with kind words on his lips, and sympathy in his heart; he should carry sunshine wherever he goes, and spread happiness around him.

Gracious Spirit dwell with me;

I myself would gracious be,

And with words that help and heal

Would your life in mine reveal,

And with actions bold and meek

Would for Christ my Savior speak.

Evening, September 5, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Have you entered into the springs of the sea, or walked in the recesses of the deep?” — Job 38:16

Some things in nature must remain a mystery to the most intelligent and enterprising investigators. Human knowledge has bounds beyond which it cannot pass. Universal knowledge is for God alone. And if this is so in the things which are visible and temporal, I may rest assured that it is even more so in matters spiritual and eternal. Why, then, have I been tormenting my brain with speculations as to destiny and freewill, fixed fate, and human responsibility? These deep and dark truths I am no more able to comprehend than to find out the depth which resides beneath the sea, from which the ancient ocean draws her watery supplies. Why am I so curious to know the reasoning of my Lord’s benevolent will, the motive of his actions, the strategy of his manifestations? Shall I ever be able to clasp the sun in my fist, and hold the universe in my palm? Yet, these are as a drop in a bucket compared with the Lord my God. Let me not strive to understand the infinite, but spend my strength in love. What I cannot gain by intellect I can possess by affection, and let that be sufficient for me. I cannot penetrate the heart of the sea, but I can enjoy the healthful breezes which sweep over its surface, and I can sail over its blue waves with favorable winds. If I could enter the springs of the sea, the feat would serve no useful purpose either to myself or to others. It would not save the sinking skiff, or give back the drowned mariner to his weeping wife and children; neither would my solving deep mysteries avail me a single iota, for the least bit of love to God, and the simplest act of obedience to him, are better than the profoundest knowledge. My Lord, I leave the infinite to you, and pray you will put far from me any such love for the tree of knowledge as might keep me from the tree of life.

Morning, September 5, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Woe is me, for I sojourn in Meshech, For I dwell among the tents of Kedar!” — Psalm 120:5

As a Christian you have to live in the midst of an ungodly world, and it is of little use for you to cry “Woe is me.” Jesus’ prayer was not that you should be taken out of the world, and what he did not pray for, you need not desire. It is far better far to meet the difficulty in the Lord’s strength, and glorify him in it. The enemy is always on the watch to detect inconsistency in your conduct; be therefore very holy. Remember that the eyes of all are upon you, and that more is expected from you than from other men. Strive to give no occasion for blame. Let your goodness be the only fault they can discover in you. Like Daniel, compel them to say of you, “We shall not find any occasion against this Daniel, except we find it against him concerning the law of his God.” Seek to be useful as well as consistent. Perhaps you think, “If I were in a more favorable position I might serve the Lord’s cause, but I cannot do any good where I am;” but the worse the people are among whom you live, the more need they have of your efforts; if they are crooked, the added necessity that you should set them straight; and if they are perverse, the added need you have to turn their proud hearts to the truth. Where should the physician be, but where there are many sick? Where else but in the hottest fire of the battle is the soldier to win honor? And when weary of the strife and sin that meets you on every side, consider that all the saints have endured the same trial. They were not carried on soft beds to heaven, and you must not expect to travel any more easily than they. They had to risk their lives to the death in the exposed places of the field, and you will not be crowned till you also have endured great difficulty as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. Therefore, “be on the alert, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong.”

Evening, September 4, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“You shall have just balances, just weights, a just ephah, and a just hin.” — Leviticus 19:36

All weights, and scales, and measures were to be performed according to the standard of justice. Surely no Christian will need to be reminded of this in his business, for if righteousness were banished from all others in the world it should find a shelter in believing hearts. There are, however, other balances which weigh moral and spiritual things, and these often need examining. We will call in the certifying official tonight.

Are the balances in which we weigh our own and other men’s characters, are they quite accurate? Do we not tend to turn our own ounces of goodness into pounds, and other persons’ buckets of merit into cups? See to your weights and measures here, Christian. The scales in which we measure our trials and troubles, are they according to standard? Paul, who had more to suffer than we have, called his afflictions light, and yet we often consider ours to be heavy–surely something must be amiss with the weights! We must pay close attention to this matter, lest we get reported to the court above for unfair dealing. Those weights with which we measure our doctrinal belief, are they quite fair? The doctrines of grace should have the same weight with us as the instructions of the word, no more and no less; but it is to be feared that with many of us one scale or the other is unfairly weighted. It is an important matter to give just measure in truth. Christian, be careful here. Those measures in which we estimate our obligations and responsibilities look rather small. When a rich man gives no more to the cause of God than the poor contribute, is that a just ephah and a just hin? When pastors and missionaries are half starved, is that honest dealing? When the poor are despised, while ungodly rich men are held in admiration, is that a just balance? Reader, we might lengthen the list, but we prefer to leave it as your evening’s work to find out and destroy all unrighteous balances, weights, and measures.

Morning, September 4, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“I am willing; be cleansed.” — Mark 1:41

Primeval darkness heard the Almighty command, “light be,” and immediately light was; the word of the Lord Jesus is equal in majesty to that ancient word of power. Redemption, like Creation, has its word of might.

Jesus speaks and it is done. Leprosy yielded to no human cures, but it fled at once at the Lord’s “I will.” The disease exhibited no hopeful signs or indications of recovery, nature contributed nothing to its own healing, but the unaided word achieved the entire work on the spot and forever. The sinner is in a plight more miserable than the leper; let him imitate his example and go to Jesus, “beseeching him and kneeling down to him.” Let him exercise what little faith he has, even though it may go no further than “Lord, if you will, you can make me clean,” and there need be no doubt as to the result of the request. Jesus heals all who come, and casts out none. In reading the narrative in which our morning’s text occurs, it is worthy of spiritual notice that Jesus touched the leper. This unclean person had broken through the regulations of the ceremonial law and pressed into the house, but Jesus — rather than chiding him — broke through the law himself in order to meet him. He made an exchange with the leper, for while he cleansed him, he contracted by that touch a Levitical defilement. Even so Jesus Christ was made sin for us, although in himself he knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him. Oh, that poor sinners would go to Jesus, believing in the power of his blessed work of substituting himself — taking their place– and they would soon learn the power of his gracious touch. That hand which multiplied the loaves, which saved Peter from sinking, which upholds afflicted saints, which crowns believers, that same hand will touch every seeking sinner, and in a instant make him clean. The love of Jesus is the source of salvation. He loves, he looks, he touches us, we live.

Evening, September 3, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“The Lord tests the righteous.” — Psalm 11:5

All events are under the control of God’s foresight and care; consequently, all the trials of our outward life are traceable at once to the great First Cause. Out of the golden gate of God’s ordered fortress the armies of trial march forth in array, clad in their iron armor, and armed with weapons of war. All God’s blessings are doors to trial. Even our mercies, like roses, have their thorns. Men may be drowned in seas of prosperity as well as in rivers of affliction. Our mountains are not too high, and our valleys are not too low for temptations: trials lurk on all roads. Everywhere, above and below, we are assailed and surrounded with dangers. Yet no shower falls unpermitted from the threatening cloud; every drop has its order as it hurries to the earth. The trials which come from God are sent to prove and strengthen our virtues, and so at once to illustrate the power of divine grace, to test the genuineness of our qualities, and to add to their energy. Our Lord in his infinite wisdom and abounding love, sets so high a value upon his people’s faith that he will not screen them from those trials by which faith is strengthened. You would never have possessed the precious faith which now supports you if the trial of your faith had not been likened to fire. You are a tree that never would have rooted so well if the wind had not rocked you to and fro, and made you take firm hold upon the precious truths of the covenant grace. Worldly ease is a great adversary to faith; it loosens the joints of holy valor, and snaps the sinews of sacred courage. The balloon never rises until the cords are cut; affliction performs this sharp service for believing souls. While the wheat sleeps comfortably in the husk it is useless to man, it must be threshed out of its resting place before its value can be known. Therefore it is good that Jehovah tests the righteous, for it causes them to grow rich towards God.

Morning, September 3, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“You whom my soul loves.” –Song of Solomon 1:7

It is good to be able — without any “if” or “but” — to say of the Lord Jesus, “You whom my soul loves.” Many can only say of Jesus that they hope they love him; they trust they love him; but one with only a poor and shallow experience will be content to stay here. No one ought to give any rest to his spirit until he feels quite sure about a matter of such vital importance. We ought not to be satisfied with a superficial hope that Jesus loves us, and with a bare trust that we love him. The old saints did not generally speak with “buts,” and “ifs,” and “hopes,” and “trusts,” but they spoke positively and plainly. “I know whom I have believed,” says Paul. “I know that my Redeemer lives,” says Job. Get definite knowledge of your love of Jesus, and don’t be satisfied until you can speak of your loving interest in him as a reality, which you have made sure by having received the witness of the Holy Spirit, and his seal upon your soul by faith.

True love to Christ is in every case the Holy Spirit’s work, and must be fashioned in the heart by him. He is the effective cause of it; but the logical reason why we love Jesus lies in himself. Why do we love Jesus? Because he first loved us. Why do we love Jesus? Because he “gave himself for us.” We have life through his death; we have peace through his blood. Though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor. Why do we love Jesus? Because of the outstanding character of his person. We are filled with a sense of his beauty! An admiration of his charms! An awareness of his infinite perfection! His greatness, goodness, and loveliness, in one resplendent beam, combine to enchant the soul until it is so overwhelmed that it exclaims, “Yes, he is altogether lovely.” A joyful love is this — a love which binds the heart with chains softer than silk, and yet firmer than diamond!

Evening, September 2, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Unless you people see signs and wonders, you simply will not believe.” — John 4:48

A craving after marvels was a symptom of the unhealthy state of men’s minds in our Lord’s day; they refused solid nourishment, and yearned after mere wonder. The gospel which they so greatly needed they would not have; the miracles which Jesus did not always choose to give they eagerly demanded. Many these days also must see signs and wonders, or they will not believe. Some have said in their heart, “I must reach a deep, awful place in my soul, or I never will believe in Jesus.” But what if you never should feel it, as probably you never may? Will you go to hell out of spite against God, because he will not treat you like another? One has said to himself, “If I had a dream, or if I could feel a sudden shock of the supernatural, then I would believe.” In this way you undeserving mortals imagine that my Lord is to be dictated to by you! You are beggars at his gate, asking for mercy, and you think you need to draw up rules and regulations as to how he shall give that mercy. Do you think that he will submit to this? My Master has a generous spirit, but he also has a righteous kingly heart; he refuses our commandment, and maintains his sovereignty to act. Why, dear reader, if such be your case, do you crave for signs and wonders? Is not the gospel its own sign and wonder? Is not this a miracle of miracles, that “God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life”? Surely that precious word, “and let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who wishes take the water of life without cost,” and that solemn promise,” and the one who comes to Me I will certainly not cast out,” are better than signs and wonders! A truthful Savior ought to be believed. He is truth itself. Why will you ask proof of the authenticity of One who cannot lie? The devils themselves declared him to be the Son of God; will you mistrust him?

Morning, September 2, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Now Simon’s mother-in-law was lying sick with a fever; and immediately they spoke to Jesus about her.” — Mark 1:30

Very interesting is this little peek into the house of the Apostolic Fisherman. We see at once that household joys and cares are no hindrance to the full practice of ministry; indeed, they furnish an opportunity for personally witnessing the Lord’s gracious work upon one’s own flesh and blood; they may even instruct the minister better than any other earthly discipline. Catholics and other sects may oppose ministers’ marriage, but true Christianity and household life agree well together. Peter’s house was probably a poor fisherman’s hut, but the Lord of Glory entered it, lodged in it, and performed a miracle in it. Should our little book be read this morning in some very humble cottage, let this fact encourage the occupants to seek the company of King Jesus. God is more often found in little huts than in rich palaces. Jesus is looking around your room now, and is waiting to be gracious to you. Into Simon’s house sickness had entered, fever in a deadly form had overwhelmed his mother-in-law, and as soon as Jesus came they told him of the miserable affliction, and he hurried to the patient’s bed. Have you any sickness in the house this morning? You will find Jesus by far the best physician; go to him at once and tell him all about the matter. Immediately lay the case before him. It concerns one of his people, and therefore will not be trivial to him. Observe, that at once the Savior restored the sick woman; none can heal as he does. We may not be assured that the Lord will immediately remove all disease from those we love, but we may know that believing prayer for the sick is far more likely to be followed by restoration than anything else in the world, and where this does not benefit, we must meekly bow to his will, by whom life and death are determined. The tender heart of Jesus waits to hear our grief, let us pour it into his patient ear.

Evening, September 1, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Trust in him at all times.” — Psalm 62:8

 Faith is as much the rule of our daily life as of our spiritual life; we ought to have faith in God for our earthly affairs as well as for our heavenly business. It is only as we learn to trust in God for the supply of all our daily needs that we shall live above the world. We are not to be lazy, that would show we did not trust in God, who is himself at work, but in the devil, who is the father of idleness. We are not to be imprudent or rash; that would show we trust chance, and not the living God, who is a God of economy and order. Acting in all prudence and uprightness, we are to rely simply and entirely upon the Lord at all times.

Let me commend to you a life of trust in God in temporal things, the things of this earth. Trusting in God, you will not be compelled to mourn because you have used sinful means to grow rich. Serve God with integrity, and if you achieve no success, at least no sin will lie upon your conscience. Trusting God, you will not be guilty of self-contradiction. He who trusts in craftiness, sails this way today, and that way the next, like a vessel tossed about by the changeable wind; but he that trusts in the Lord is like a vessel propelled by engine; she cuts through the waves, defies the wind, and makes one bright silvery straightforward track to her destined haven. Be a man with living principles within; never bow to the varying customs of worldly wisdom. Walk in your path of integrity with unwavering steps, and show that you are invincibly strong in the strength which confidence in God alone can grant. Thus, you will be delivered from anxiety, you will not be troubled with evil reports, your heart will be fixed, trusting in the Lord. How pleasant to float along the stream of God’s foreseeing care! There is no more blessed way of living than a life of dependence upon a covenant-keeping God. We have no worries, for he cares for us; we have no troubles, because we cast our burdens upon the Lord.

Morning, September 1, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“With Your counsel You will guide me, and afterward receive me to glory.” — Psalm 73:24

The Psalmist felt his need of divine guidance. He had just been discovering the foolishness of his own heart, and in case he should be repeatedly led astray by it, he resolved that God’s counsel should guide him from this time forward. A sense of our own folly is a great step towards being wise, when it leads us to rely on the wisdom of the Lord. The blind man leans on his friend’s arm and reaches home in safety, and so would we give ourselves up absolutely to divine guidance, nothing doubting; assured that though we cannot see, it is always safe to trust the all-seeing God. “You Will,” is a blessed expression of confidence. He was sure that the Lord would not decline the lowly task. There is a word for you, O believer; you rest in it. Be assured that thy God will be your counselor and friend; he shall guide you; he will direct all your ways. In his written Word you have this assurance fulfilled in part, for holy Scripture is his counsel to you. We are happy to have God’s Word always to guide us! What is the mariner without his compass? And what is the Christian without the Bible? This is the unerring chart, the map in which every reef is described, and all the channels from the sandbars of destruction to the haven of salvation mapped and marked by one who knows all the way. Blessed be you, O God, that we may trust you to guide us now, and guide us even to the end! After this guidance through life, the Psalmist anticipates a divine reception at last–“and afterward receive me to glory.” What a thought for you, believer! God himself will receive you to glory–YOU! Wandering, stumbling, straying, yet he will bring you safe at last to glory! This is your portion; live on it this day, and if confusion should surround you, go in the strength of this text straight to the throne.

Evening, August 31, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“If we walk in the light, as he himself is in the light.” — 1 John 1:7

As he is in the light! Can we ever attain to this? Shall we ever be able to walk as clearly in the light as he whom we call “Our Father,” of whom it is written, “God is light, and in him is no darkness at all?” Certainly, this is the model which is set before us, for the Savior himself said, “Therefore you are to be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect;” and although we may feel that we can never rival the perfection of God, yet we are to seek after it, and never to be satisfied until we attain to it. The youthful artist, as he grasps his early pencil, can hardly hope to equal Raphael or Michelangelo, but still, if he did not have a noble and beautiful ideal before his mind, he would only attain to something very average and ordinary. But what is meant by the expression that the Christian is to walk in light as God is in the light? We conceive it to indicate likeness, but not degree. We are as truly in the light, we are as whole-heartedly in the light, we are as sincerely in the light, as honestly in the light, though we cannot be there in the same measure. I cannot dwell in the sun, it is too bright a place for my residence, but I can walk in the light of the sun; and so, though I cannot attain to that perfection of purity and truth which belongs to the Lord of hosts by nature as infinitely good, yet I can set the Lord always before me, and strive, by the help of the indwelling Spirit, to conform to his image. A famous old commentator, John Trapp, says, “We may be in the light as God is in the light for quality, but not for equality.” We are to have the same light, and are as truly to have it and walk in it as God does, though, as for equality with God in his holiness and purity, that must be left until we cross the Jordan and enter into the perfection of the Most High. Take note that the blessings of holy fellowship and perfect cleansing are bound up with walking in the light.

Morning, August 31, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“On my arm shall they trust.”  —  Isaiah 51:5

In seasons of severe trial, the Christian has nothing on earth that he can trust in, and is therefore compelled to cast himself on his God alone. When his vessel is about to capsize, and no human deliverance is available, he must simply and entirely trust himself to the divine intervention and care of God. It’s a fortunate storm that wrecks a man on such a rock as this! Oh, blessed hurricane, that drives the soul to God and God alone! There is no getting close to our God sometimes, because of the multitude of our friends; but when a man is so poor, so friendless, so helpless that he has nowhere else to turn, he flies into his Father’s arms, and is delightfully embraced there! When he is burdened with troubles so pressing and so unusual, that he cannot tell them to any but his God, he may be thankful for them; for he will learn more of his Lord then than at any other time. Oh, storm-tossed believer, it is an opportune trouble that drives you to your Father! Now that you have only your God to trust to, make sure that you put your full confidence in him. Do not dishonor your Lord and Master by entertaining undeserving doubts and fears; but be strong in faith, giving glory to God. Show the world that your God is worth ten thousand worlds to you. Show rich men how rich you are in your poverty when the Lord God is your helper. Show the strong man how strong you are in your weakness when underneath you are the everlasting arms. Now is the time for feats of faith and valiant exploits. Be strong and very courageous, and the Lord your God shall certainly, as surely as he built the heavens and the earth, glorify himself in your weakness, and magnify his might in the midst of your distress. The grandeur of the night sky would be spoiled if the sky were supported by a single visible column, and your faith would lose its glory if it rested on anything discernible by the human eye. May the Holy Spirit allow you to rest in Jesus this closing day of the month.

Evening, August 30, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed.” — Jeremiah 17:14

“I have seen his ways, and will heal him.” — Isaiah 57:18

It is the sole prerogative of God to remove spiritual disease. Men may be instruments in the healing of natural disease, but even then, the honor is to be given to God who gives virtue to medicine, and bestows power to the human body to cast off disease. As for spiritual sicknesses, these remain with the great Physician alone; he claims it as his prerogative, “I kill and I make alive, I wound and I heal;” and one of the Lord’s choice titles is Jehovah-Rapha, the Lord that heals you. “I will heal you of your wounds,” is a promise which could not come from the lip of man, but only from the mouth of the eternal God. On this account, the psalmist cried unto the Lord, “O Lord, heal me, for my bones are troubled,” and again, “Heal my soul, for I have sinned against you.” For this, also, the godly praise the name of the Lord, saying, “He heals all our diseases.” He who made man can restore man; he who was at first the creator of our nature can recreate it. What a transcendent comfort it is that in the person of Jesus ” all the fullness of Deity dwells in bodily form!” My soul, whatever your disease may be, this great Physician can heal you. If he really is God, there can be no limit to his power. Come then with the blind eye of darkened understanding, come with the limping foot of wasted energy, come with the maimed hand of weak faith, the fever of an angry temper, or the chills of shivering despondency, come just as you are, for he who is God can certainly restore you from your plague. None shall restrain the healing virtue which proceeds from Jesus our Lord. Legions of devils have been made to own the power of the beloved Physician, and never once has he been baffled. All his patients have been cured in the past and shall be in the future, and you shall be one among them, my friend, if you will just rest yourself in him this night.

Morning, August 30, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Wait on the Lord.” — Psalm 27:14

It may seem an easy thing to wait, but it is one of the stances which a Christian soldier learns only with years of teaching. Marching and running are much easier for God’s warriors than standing still. There are hours of perplexity when the most willing spirit, anxiously eager to serve the Lord, still doesn’t know what part to take. Then what shall it do? Exasperate itself with despair? Retreat in cowardice, turn to the right hand in fear, or rush forward in presumption? No… just simply wait.

Wait in prayer, however. Call upon God, and lay out the case before him; tell him your difficulty, and plead for his promise of aid. In dilemmas between one obligation and another, it is agreeable to be humble as a child, and wait with simplicity of soul on the Lord. It is sure to be well with us when we feel and know our own foolishness, and are heartily willing to be guided by the will of God. But wait in faith. Express your unshaken confidence in him; for unfaithful, untrusting waiting  is just an insult to the Lord. Believe that if he keeps you waiting until midnight, he will still come at the right time; the vision shall come and shall not delay. Wait in quiet patience, not rebelling because you are under the affliction, but blessing your God for it. Never murmur against God’s direction through circumstance, as the children of Israel did against Moses; never wish you could go back to the world again, but accept the case as it is, and put it as it stands, simply and with your whole heart, without any self-will, into the hand of your covenant God, saying, “Now, Lord, not my will, but yours be done. I don’t know what to do; I am brought to my limits, but I will wait until you shall divide the floods, or drive back my enemies. I will wait, even if you delay me many a day, for my heart is fixed upon you alone, O God, and my spirit waits for you in the full conviction that you will yet be my joy and my salvation, my refuge and my strong tower.”

Evening, August 29, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“All the days of his separation he shall not eat anything that is produced by the grape vine, from the seeds even to the skin.” — Numbers 6:4

Nazarites had taken, among other vows, one which excluded them from the use of wine. In order that they might not violate the obligation, they were forbidden to drink the vinegar of wine or strong liquors, and to make the rule still more clear, they were not to touch the unfermented juice of grapes, nor even to eat the fruit either fresh or dried. In order to secure the integrity of the vow altogether, they were not even allowed anything that had to do with the vine; they were, in fact, to avoid the appearance of evil. Surely this is a lesson to the Lord’s separated ones, teaching them to abstain from sin in every form, to avoid not merely its obvious shapes, but even its spirit and similarity. Taking strict care in our Christian walk is much despised in these days, but rest assured, dear reader, it is both the safest and the happiest. He who yields on an issue or two to the world is in fearful peril; he who eats the grapes of Sodom will soon drink the wine of Gomorrah. A little crevice in the dike in Holland lets in the sea, and the gap speedily expands until a province is drowned. Worldly conformity, in any degree, is a snare to the soul, and makes it more and more liable to premeditated sin. Furthermore, as the Nazarite who drank grape juice could not be quite sure whether it might not have endured a degree of fermentation, and consequently could not be clear in heart that his vow was intact, so the yielding, procrastinating Christian cannot wear a conscience clear of offence, but must feel that this inward monitor is in question of him. Things questionable we need not doubt about; they are wrong to us. Things tempting us we must not linger with, but flee from them with speed. Better be sneered at as a Puritan than be despised as a hypocrite. A careful walk may involve much self-denial, but it has pleasures of its own which are more than a sufficient reward.

Morning, August 29, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Have mercy upon me, O God.” — Psalm 51:1

When Dr. William Carey, the missionary, was suffering from a dangerous illness, the enquiry was made, “If this sickness should prove fatal, what passage would you select as the text for your funeral sermon?” He replied, “Oh, I feel that such a poor sinful creature is unworthy to have anything said about him; but if a funeral sermon must be preached, let it be from the words, ‘Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy lovingkindness; according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions.'” In the same spirit of humility he directed in his will that the following inscription and nothing more should be cut on his gravestone:

William Carey, Born August 17th, 1761: Died – –

“A wretched, poor, and helpless worm

On thy kind arms I fall.”

Only on the footing of free grace can the most experienced and most honored of the saints approach their God. The best of men are conscious above all others that they are only men at the best. Empty boats float high, but heavily laden vessels sit low in the water; those claiming to be Christian can boast, but true children of God cry for mercy upon their unprofitableness. We need the Lord to have mercy upon our good works, our prayers, our preaching, our giving, and our holiest efforts. The blood was not only sprinkled upon the doorposts of Israel’s dwelling houses, but upon the sanctuary, the mercy-seat, and the altar, because as sin intrudes into our holiest efforts, the blood of Jesus is needed to purify them from defilement. If mercy is needed to be exercised towards our duties, what shall be said of our sins? How delightful the remembrance that inexhaustible mercy is waiting to be gracious to us, to restore our backsliding, and make our broken bones rejoice!

Evening, August 28, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Shout for joy, O barren one” — Isaiah 54:1

Though we have brought forth some fruit to Christ, and have a joyful hope that we are “the shoot which Your right hand has planted,” yet there are times when we feel very barren. Prayer is lifeless, love is cold, faith is weak, each virtue in the garden of our heart languishes and droops. We are like flowers in the hot sun, requiring a refreshing shower. In such a condition what are we to do? The text is addressed to us in just such a state. “Sing, O barren, break forth into joyful shouting and cry aloud.” But what can I sing about? I cannot talk about the present, and even the past looks full of barrenness. Ah! I can sing of Jesus Christ. I can talk of visits which the Redeemer has in times past paid to me; or if not of these, I can magnify the great love in which he loved his people when he came from the heights of heaven for their redemption. I will go to the cross again. Come, my soul, heavy laden that you once were, you did lose your burden there. Go to Calvary again. Perhaps that very cross which gave you life may give you fruitfulness. What is my barrenness? It is the platform for his fruit-creating power. What is my desolation? It is the black setting for the sapphire of his everlasting love. I will go in poverty, I will go in helplessness, I will go in all my shame and backsliding, I will tell him that I am still his child, and in confidence in his faithful heart, even I, the barren one, will sing and shout for joy.

Sing, believer, for it will cheer your own heart, and the hearts of other desolate ones. Sing on, for now that you are really humbled of being barren, you will be fruitful soon; now that God makes you unwilling to be without fruit he will soon cover you with clusters of it. The experience of our barrenness is painful, but the Lord’s visitations are delightful. A sense of our own poverty drives us to Christ, and that is where we need to be, for in him is our fruit found.

Morning, August 28, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Oil for the light.” — Exodus 25:6

My soul, how much you need this, for your lamp will not continue to burn long without it. Your wick will smoke and become offensive if the flame is gone, and gone it will be if the oil is absent. You don’t have any oil well springing up in your human nature, and therefore you must go to those that sell, and buy for yourself, or like the foolish virgins, you will have to cry, “My lamp is gone out.” Even the sacred lamps could not give light without oil; though they shone in the tabernacle they needed to be fueled, and though no strong winds blew upon them they were required to be trimmed, and your need is equally as great. Under the most favorable circumstances you can’t give light for another hour unless the fresh oil of grace be given you.

It was not just any oil that might be used in the Lord’s service; neither the petroleum which exudes so plentifully from the earth, nor the produce of fishes, nor that extracted from nuts would be accepted; one oil only was selected, and that was the best olive oil. Imitated grace from natural goodness, assumed grace from priestly hands, or imaginary grace from outward ceremonies will never serve the true saint of God; he knows that the Lord would not be pleased with rivers of such oil. He goes to the olive-press of Gethsemane, and draws his supplies from him who was crushed there. The oil of the gospel’s grace is pure and free from any contamination or impurity, and so the light which results is clear and bright. Our churches are the Savior’s golden candelabra, and if they are to be lights in this dark world, they must have much holy oil. Let us pray for ourselves, our ministers, and our churches, that they may never lack oil for the light. Truth, holiness, joy, knowledge, love, these are all public rays of the sacred light, but we cannot give them forth unless in private we receive oil from God the Holy Spirit.

Evening, August 27, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Into Your hand I commit my spirit; You have ransomed me, O Lord, God of truth.” — Psalm 31:5

These words have been frequently used by godly men in their hour of departure. We may profitably consider them this evening. The object of the faithful man’s care and concern in life and death is not his body or his estate, but his spirit; this is his choice treasure–if this is safe, all is well. What is this mortal state compared with the soul? The believer commits his soul to the hand of his God; it came from him, it is his own, he has previously sustained it, he is able to secure it, and it is most fitting that he should receive it. All things are safe in Jehovah’s hands; what we entrust to the Lord will be secure, both now and in that day of days towards which we are hastening. It makes for peaceful living, and glorious dying, to rest in the care of heaven. At all times we should commit everything to Jesus’ faithful hand; then, though life may hang on a thread, and adversities may multiply as the sands of the sea, our soul shall dwell at ease, and delight itself in quiet resting places.

“You have ransomed me, O Lord, God of truth.” Redemption is a solid basis for confidence. David had not known Calvary as we have done, but temporal redemption encouraged him; and shall not eternal redemption yet more pleasantly comfort us? Past deliverances are strong arguments for present assistance. What the Lord has done he will do again, for he never changes. He is faithful to his promises, and gracious to his saints; he will not turn away from his people.

“Though thou slay me I will trust,

Praise thee even from the dust,

Prove, and tell it as I prove,

Thine unutterable love.

Thou mayst chasten and correct,

But thou never canst neglect;

Since the ransom price is paid,

On thy love my hope is stay’d.”

Morning, August 27, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“How long will they not believe in Me?” — Numbers 14:11

Strive with all diligence to keep out that monster, unbelief. It so dishonors Christ, that he will withdraw his visible presence if we insult him by indulging it. It is indeed truly a weed, the seeds of which we can never entirely extract from the soil, but we must aim at its root with intensity and perseverance. Among things we may hate it is the most to be despised. Its harmful nature is so venomous that both he that practices it and he upon whom it is practiced are both hurt by it. In your case, oh believer, it is extremely wicked, for the mercies of your Lord in the past increase your guilt by doubting him now. When you distrust the Lord Jesus, he may well cry out, “Behold I am burdened down under you, as a cart is weighed down that is full of sheaves.” This is crowning his head with thorns of the sharpest kind. It is very cruel for a well-beloved wife to mistrust a kind and faithful husband. The sin is needless, foolish, and unwarranted. Jesus has never given the slightest ground for suspicion, and it is painful to be doubted by those to whom our conduct is uniformly affectionate and true. Jesus is the Son of the Highest, and has unbounded wealth; it is appalling to doubt Omnipotence and distrust all-sufficiency. The cattle on a thousand hills will suffice for us at our hungriest, and the storehouses of heaven are not likely to be emptied by our eating. If Christ were only a cistern, we might soon exhaust his abundance, but who can drain a fountain? Multitudes of spirits have drawn their supplies from him, and not one of them has murmured at the meagerness of his resources. Away, then, with this lying traitor unbelief, for his only errand is to cut the bonds of communion and make us mourn an absent Savior. Bunyan tells us that unbelief has “as many lives as a cat.” If so, let us kill one life now, and continue the work till the whole nine are gone. Down with you, you traitor, my heart detests you.

Evening, August 26, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Immediately, when the entire crowd saw Him, they were amazed and began running up to greet Him.”  — Mark 9:15

How dramatic a difference between Moses and Jesus! When the prophet Moses had spent forty days upon the mountain of Horeb, he underwent a kind of transfiguration, so that his visage shone with exceeding brightness, and he put a veil over his face, for the people could not endure to look upon his glory. Not so our Savior. He had been transfigured with a greater glory than that of Moses, and yet, it is not written that the people were blinded by the blaze of his appearance, but rather they were amazed, and running to him they greeted him. The glory of the law repels, but the greater glory of Jesus attracts. Though Jesus is holy and just, there is blended with his purity so much of truth and grace, that sinners run to him amazed at his goodness, fascinated by his love; they acknowledge him, become his disciples, and take him to be their Lord and Master. Reader, it may be that at this point you are blinded by the dazzling brightness of the law of God. You feel its claims on your conscience, but you cannot obey it in your life. Not that you find fault with the law, on the contrary, it commands your profoundest esteem, still you are in no way drawn by it to God; you are rather hardened in heart, and are verging towards desperation. Ah, poor heart! Turn your eye from Moses, with all his repelling splendor, and look to Jesus, resplendent with kinder glories. Behold his flowing wounds and thorn-crowned head! He is the Son of God, and in that he is greater than Moses, but he is the Lord of love, and in that more tender than the lawgiver. He bore the wrath of God, and in his death revealed more of God’s justice than Sinai, blazing and thundering, but that justice is now vindicated, and from this time forward it is the guardian of believers in Jesus. Look, sinner, to the bleeding Savior, and as you feel the attraction of his love, fly to his arms, and you will be saved.

Morning, August 26, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“He has ordained His covenant forever.”– Psalms 111:9

The Lord’s people take pleasure in in the covenant promise itself. It is an unfailing source of comfort to them so often as the Holy Spirit leads them into his banquet room and waves his banner of love. They take pleasure to meditate on the antiquity of that covenant, remembering that before the sun knew its place, or planets ran their orbits, the interests of the saints were made secure in Christ Jesus. It is peculiarly pleasing to them to remember the certainty of the covenant, while meditating upon “the sure mercies of David.” They take pleasure to celebrate it as “signed, and sealed, and ratified, in all things ordered well.” It often makes their hearts expand with joy to think of its unchangeable nature, as a covenant which neither time nor eternity, life nor death, shall ever be able to violate–a covenant as old as eternity and as everlasting as the Rock of ages. They joyfully also feast upon the comprehensiveness of this covenant, for they see in it that all things are provided for them. God is their portion, Christ their companion, the Spirit their Comforter, earth their lodge, and heaven their home. They see in it an inheritance permanently reserved to every soul possessing an interest in its ancient and eternal deed, freely gifted. Their eyes sparkled when they saw it as a treasure-trove in the Bible; but oh, how their souls were delighted when they saw in the last will and testament of their divine kinsman, that it was bequeathed to them! Even more special, it is the pleasure of God’s people to contemplate the graciousness of this covenant. They see that the law was made void because it was a covenant of works and depended upon merit, but this they perceive to be enduring because God’s grace is the basis, grace the condition, grace the fastener, grace the fortification, grace the foundation, grace the capstone. The covenant is a treasury of wealth, a warehouse of food, a fountain of life, a storehouse of salvation, a charter of peace, and a haven of joy.

Evening, August 25, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“If you believe with all your heart, you may.” — Acts 8:37

These words may answer your misgivings, devout reader, concerning following the scriptural instructions. Perhaps you say, “I should be reluctant to be baptized; it is such a solemn thing to make my vow to be dead with Christ, and buried with him. I should not feel at liberty to come to the Master’s table; I should be concerned about eating and drinking condemnation to myself, not rightly judging the Lord’s body.” Ah! Poor nervous one, Jesus has given you liberty, don’t be afraid. If a stranger came to your house, he would stand at the door, or wait in the hall; he would not dream of intruding uninvited into your living room–he is not at home… but your child makes himself very free about the house; and so is it with the child of God. A stranger may not intrude where a child may venture. When the Holy Spirit has allowed you to feel the spirit of adoption, you may come to participate in Christian practices without fear. The same rule holds good of the Christian’s inward privileges. You think, poor seeker, that you are not allowed to rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory; if you are permitted to get barely inside Christ’s door, or sit at the bottom of his table, you will be content with that. Ah! But you shall not have less privilege than the very greatest. God makes no difference in his love to his children. A child is a child to him; he will not make him a hired servant; but he shall feast upon the fatted calf, and shall have the music and the dancing as much as if he had never gone astray. When Jesus comes into the heart, he issues the general freedom to be glad in the Lord. No chains are worn in the court of King Jesus. Our admission into full privileges may be gradual, but it is sure. Perhaps our reader is saying, “I wish I could enjoy the promises, and walk at liberty in my Lord’s commands.” “If you believe with all your heart, you may.” Loose the chains off your neck, Oh captive daughter, for Jesus makes you free.

Morning, August 25, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“His fruit was sweet to my taste.” — Song of Solomon 2:3

Faith, in the Scripture, is spoken of as the symbol of all the senses. It is sight: “Look to me and be saved.” It is hearing: “Hear, and your soul shall live.” Faith is smelling: “All your garments smell of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia”; “Your name is as ointment poured forth.” Faith is spiritual touch. By this faith the woman came from behind and touched the hem of Christ’s garment, and by faith we handle the things of the good word of life. Faith is equally the spirit’s taste. “How sweet are your words to my taste! Yes, sweeter than honey to my lips.” “Except a man eat my flesh,” says Christ, “and drink my blood, there is no life in him.”

This “taste” is faith in one of its highest operations. One of the first implementations of faith is hearing. We hear the voice of God, not with the outward ear alone, but with the inward ear; we hear it as God’s Word, and we believe it to be so; that is the “hearing” of faith. Then our mind looks upon the truth as it is presented to us; that is to say, we understand it, we perceive its meaning; that is the “seeing” of faith. Next, we discover its great value; we begin to admire it, and find how fragrant it is; that is faith in its “smell.” Then we seize the mercies which are prepared for us in Christ; that is faith in its “touch.” Then we follow the enjoyment, peace, delight, communion; which are faith in its “taste.” Any one of these acts of faith is saving. To hear Christ’s voice as the sure voice of God in the soul will save us; but that which gives true enjoyment is the aspect of faith wherein Christ, by holy taste, is received into us, and made, by inward and spiritual understanding of his delightfulness and preciousness, to be the food of our souls. It is then we sit “under his shadow with great delight,” and find his fruit sweet to our taste.

Evening, August 24, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Whenever a fire starts and spreads into the underbrush so that it burns up stacked or standing grain or ruins a field, the person who started the fire must make up for the loss.” — Exodus 22:6

But what restitution can a man make who casts abroad the firebrands of error, or the coals of sexual immorality, and sets men’s souls on a blaze with the fire of hell? The guilt is beyond estimate, and the result is irretrievable. If indeed such an offender is forgiven, what grief it will cause him as he remembers, since he cannot undo the damage which he has done! A bad example may kindle a flame which years of amended character cannot quench. To burn the food of man is bad enough, but how much worse to destroy the soul! It may be useful to us to reflect how much we may have been guilty in the past, and to search whether, even in the present, there may be evil in us which tends to bring damage to the souls of our relatives, friends, or neighbors.

The fire of strife is a terrible evil when it breaks out in a Christian church. Where converts were multiplied, and God was glorified, jealousy and envy do the devil’s work most effectively. Where the golden grain was being housed, to reward the toil of the great Boaz, the fire of enmity comes in and leaves little else but smoke and a heap of blackness. Woe to those by whom offences come. May they never come through us, for although we cannot make restitution, we shall certainly be the chief sufferers if we are the chief offenders. Those who feed the fire deserve just condemnation, but he who first kindles it is most to blame. Discord usually takes first hold upon the thorns and not the good wheat; it is nurtured among the hypocrites and dishonorable in the church, and away it goes among the righteous, blown by the winds of hell, and no one knows where it may end. Oh Lord and giver of peace, make us peacemakers, and never let us aid and abet the men of strife, or even unintentionally cause the least division among your people.