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

“Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; your walls are continually before Me.” — Isaiah 49:16

No doubt a part of the wonder which is concentrated in the word “Behold,” is made more significant by the faithless lamentation of the preceding sentence. Zion said, “The Lord has forsaken me, and the Lord has forgotten me.” How amazed the divine mind seems to be at this wicked unbelief! What can be more astounding than the unfounded doubts and fears of God’s favored people? The Lord’s loving word of rebuke should make us blush; he cries, “How can I have forgotten you, when I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands? How dare you doubt my constant remembrance, when the memorial is set upon my very being?” Oh unbelief, how strange a marvel you are! We don’t know which most to wonder at, the faithfulness of God or the unbelief of his people. He keeps his promise a thousand times, and yet the next trial makes us doubt him. He never fails; he is never a dry well; he is never as a setting sun, a passing meteor, or a fleeting vapor; and yet we are as continually troubled with anxieties, battered with suspicions, and disturbed with fears, as if our God were the mirage of the desert. “Behold,” is a word intended to stimulate admiration. Here, indeed, we have a theme for expressing marvel. Heaven and earth may well be astonished that rebels should obtain so great a nearness to the heart of infinite love as to be written upon the palms of his hands. “I have inscribed you.” It does not say, “your name.” The name is there, but that is not all: “I have inscribed you.” See the fullness of this! I have inscribed your person, your image, your case, your circumstances, your sins, your temptations, your weaknesses, your wants, your works; I have inscribed you, everything about you, all that concerns you; I have put you entirely there. Will you ever say again that your God has forsaken you when he has inscribed you upon his own palms?

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

“Saying, This is the blood of the covenant which God commanded you.” — Hebrews 9:20

There is a strange power about the very name of blood, and the sight of it is always distressing. A kind heart cannot bear to see a sparrow bleed, and unless familiarized by its experience, turns away with horror at the slaughter of a animal. As for the blood of men, it is a consecrated thing: it is murder to shed it in wrath, it is a dreadful crime to squander it in war. Is this solemnity occasioned by the fact that the blood is the life, and the pouring of it forth the token of death? We think so. When we rise to contemplate the blood of the Son of God, our awe is even more increased, and we shudder as we think of the guilt of sin, and the terrible penalty which the Sin-bearer endured. Blood, always precious, is priceless when it streams from Immanuel’s side. The blood of Jesus seals the covenant of grace, and makes it forever undisputable. Covenants of old were made by sacrifice, and the everlasting covenant was ratified in the same manner. Oh, the delight of being saved upon the sure foundation of divine actions which cannot be dishonored! Salvation by the works of the law is a fragile and broken vessel whose shipwreck is sure; but the covenant vessel fears no storms, for the blood ensures its integrity. The blood of Jesus made his testament valid. Wills are of no power unless the testators die. In this light the soldier’s spear on Calvary is a sacred aid to faith, since it proved our Lord to be really dead. There can be no doubts upon that matter, and we may boldly assume the legacies which he has left for his people. They are indeed happy who see their title to heavenly blessings assured to them by a dying Savior. But does this blood not speak to us? Does it not call us to sanctify ourselves to him by whom we have been redeemed? Does it not call us to newness of life, and rouse us to entire dedication to the Lord? Oh, that the power of the blood might be known, and felt in us this night!

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

“For I will pour out water on the thirsty land and streams on the dry ground.” — Isaiah 44:3

When a believer has fallen into a low, sad state of attitude, he often tries to lift himself out of it by punishing himself with dark and miserable fears. This is not the way to rise from the dust, but to continue in it. We might as well chain the eagle’s wing to make it mount up into flight, as to wallow in doubt in order to increase our grace. It is not the law, but the gospel which saves the seeking soul at first; and it is not a bondage in legalities, but gospel liberty which can restore the swooning believer afterwards. Being slaved to fear does not brings back the backslider to God, but the sweet kindnesses of love allure him to Jesus’ embrace. Are you this morning thirsting for the living God, and unhappy because you cannot find him to the delight of your heart? Have you lost the joy of religion, and your prayer is, “Restore to me the joy of your salvation”? Are you conscious also that you are unfruitful, like the dry ground; that you are not bringing forth the fruit to God which he has a right to expect of you; that you are not nearly as useful in the Church, or in the world, as your heart desires to be? Then here is exactly the promise which you need, “I will pour water upon the thirsty.” You shall receive the grace you so much require, and you shall have it to the utmost extent of your needs. Water refreshes the thirsty: you shall be refreshed; your desires shall be gratified. Water brings to life sleeping vegetables: your life shall be enlivened by fresh grace. Water swells the buds and makes the fruits ripen; you shall have fruitful grace: you shall be made fruitful in the ways of God. Whatever good quality there is in divine grace, you shall enjoy it to the full. All the riches of divine grace you shall receive in plenty; you shall be as if drenched with it: and as sometimes the meadows become flooded by the overflowing rivers, and the fields are turned into pools, so shall you be–the thirsty land shall be springs of water.

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

“Give thanks to Him, bless His name.” — Psalm 100:4

Our Lord would have all his people to be rich in thinking highly and happily concerning the blessed person of Christ. Jesus is not content that his brethren should think of him in any average way; it is his pleasure that his betrothed ones should be delighted with his beauty. We are not to regard him as a bare necessary, like bread and water, but as a luxurious delicacy, as a rare and ravishing delight. To this end he has revealed himself as the “pearl of great price” in its peerless beauty, as the “bundle of myrrh” in its refreshing fragrance, as the “rose of Sharon” in its lasting perfume, as the “lily” in its spotless purity.

As a help to thinking highly of Christ, remember the esteem that Christ is held in beyond the skies, where things are measured by the right standard. Think how God esteems the Only Begotten, his unspeakable gift to us. Consider what the angels think of him, as they count it their highest honor to veil their faces at his feet. Consider what the blood-washed think of him, as for endless days without night they sing his well-deserved praises. Thinking highly of Christ will enable us to act consistently in our relationship with him. The more loftily we see Christ enthroned, and the lowlier we are when bowing before the foot of the throne, the more truly shall we be prepared to act our part towards him. Our Lord Jesus desires us to think well of him, that we may submit cheerfully to his authority. Thinking highly of him increases our love. Love and esteem go together. Therefore, believer, think much of your Master’s excellencies. Study him in his primeval glory, before he took your nature upon himself! Think of the mighty love which drew him from his throne to die upon the cross! Admire him as he conquers all the powers of hell! See him risen, crowned, glorified! Bow before him as the Wonderful, the Counsellor, the mighty God, for only thus will your love to him be what it should.

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

“No weapon that is formed against you will prosper.” — Isaiah 54:17

This day is notable in English history for two great deliverances performed by God for us. On this day the plot of the Catholics to destroy our Houses of Parliament was discovered, in 1605.

“While for our princes they prepare

In caverns deep a burning snare,

He shot from heaven a piercing ray,

And the dark treachery brought to day.”

And secondly–today is the anniversary of the landing of King William III, at Torbay, by which the hope of Catholic ascendancy was crushed, and religious liberty was secured, in 1688.

This day ought to be celebrated, not by the celebrations of adolescents, but by the songs of saints. Our Puritan forefathers most piously made it a special time of thanksgiving. There is surviving a record of the annual sermons preached by Matthew Henry on this day. Our Protestant feeling, and our love of liberty, should make us regard its anniversary with holy gratitude. Let our hearts and lips exclaim, “We have heard with our ears, and our fathers have told us the wondrous things which you did in their day, and in the old times before them.” You have made this nation the home of the gospel; and when the foe has risen against her, you have shielded her. Help us to offer repeated songs for repeated deliverance. Grant us more and more a hatred of Antichrist, and hurry on towards the day of her entire extinction. Till then and forever, we believe the promise, “No weapon that is formed against you shall prosper.” Should it not be laid on this day upon the heart of every lover of the gospel of Jesus to plead for the overturning of false doctrines and the expansion of divine truth? Would it not be well to search our own hearts, and turn out any religious plodding of self-righteousness which may lie concealed there?

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

“In your light we see light.” — Psalm 36:9

No mouth can tell the love of Christ to the heart until Jesus himself speaks within. Descriptions all fall flat and tame unless the Holy Spirit fills them with life and power; until our Immanuel reveals himself within, the soul does not see him. If you wanted to see the sun, would you gather together all the common means of illumination, and seek in that way to behold the star of the day? No, the wise man knows that the sun must reveal itself, and only by its own fire can that mighty lamp be seen. It is so with Christ. “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-jona:” he said to Peter, “for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you.” Purify flesh and blood by any educational process you may select, elevate mental faculties to the highest degree of intellectual power, yet none of these can reveal Christ. The Spirit of God must come with power, and overshadow the man with his wings, and then in that mystic holy of holies the Lord Jesus must display himself to the sanctified eye, as he does not to the blind sons of men. Christ must be his own mirror. The great mass of this bleary-eyed world can see nothing of the indescribable glories of Immanuel. He stands before them without special form or beauty, a root out of a dry ground, rejected by the vain and despised by the proud. Only where the Spirit has touched the eye with eye-salve, enlivened the heart with divine life, and educated the soul to a heavenly desire, only there is he understood. “To you that believe he is precious;” to you he is the chief corner-stone, the Rock of your salvation, your all in all; but to others he is “a stone of stumbling and a rock of offense.” Those to whom our Lord manifests himself are happy, for his promise to such is that he will make his abode with them. Oh Jesus, our Lord, our heart is open, come in, and stay forever. Show yourself to us now! Favor us with a glimpse of your all-conquering charms.

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

“My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9

A primary qualification for serving God with any amount of success, and for doing God’s work well and triumphantly, is a sense of our own weakness. When God’s warrior marches forth to battle, strong in his own might: when he boasts, “I know that I shall conquer, my own right arm and my conquering sword shall win me the victory,” defeat is not far away. God will not go forth with that man who marches in his own strength. He who reckons on victory therefore has reckoned wrongly, for “it is not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord of hosts.” They who go forth to fight, boasting of their prowess, shall return with their brilliant banners trailing in the dust, and their armor stained with disgrace. Those who serve God must serve him in his own way, and in his strength, or he will never accept their service. That which man does unaided by divine strength, God can never own. The mere fruits of the earth he casts away; he will only reap that corn, the seed of which was sown from heaven, watered by grace, and ripened by the sun of divine love. God will empty out all that you have, before he will put his own into you; he will first clean out your granaries before he will fill them with the finest of wheat. The river of God is full of water; but not one drop of it flows from earthly springs. God will have no strength used in his battles but the strength which he himself imparts. Are you sorrowing over your own weakness? Take courage, for there must be a consciousness of weakness before the Lord will give you victory. Your emptiness is but the preparation for your being filled, and your casting down is but the making ready for your lifting up.

“When I am weak then am I strong,

Grace is my shield and Christ my song.”

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

“Their prayer came to His holy dwelling place, to heaven.” — 2 Chronicles 30:27

Prayer is the unfailing resort of the Christian in any case, in every plight. When you cannot use your sword you may take to the weapon of prayer. Your gunpowder may be damp, your bow-string may be slack, but the weapon of prayer need never be out of order. Leviathan laughs at the javelin, but he trembles at prayer. Sword and spear need polishing and sharpening, but prayer never rusts, and when we think it most blunt it cuts the best. Prayer is an open door which none can shut. Demons may surround you on all sides, but the way upward is always open, and as long as that road is unobstructed, you will not fall into the enemy’s hand. We can never be taken by blockade, battering ram, mine, or storm, so long as heavenly assistance can come down to us by Jacob’s ladder to relieve us in the time of our necessities. Prayer is never out of season: in summer and in winter its results are precious. Prayer gains audience with heaven in the dead of night, in the midst of business, in the heat of noonday, in the shade of evening. In every condition, whether of poverty, or sickness, or obscurity, or slander, or doubt, your covenant God will welcome your prayer and answer it from His holy place. Nor is prayer ever futile. True prayer is forever, true power. You may not always get what you ask, but you shall always have your real wants supplied. When God does not answer His children according to the letter, He does so according to the spirit. If you ask for a simple meal, will you be angry because He gives you the finest banquet? If you seek bodily health, should you complain if instead He makes your sickness turn you to the healing of spiritual maladies? Is it not better to have the cross you bear sanctified than removed? This evening, my soul, do not forget to offer your petition and request, for the Lord is ready to grant you your desires.

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

“For he is praying.” — Acts 9:11

Prayers are instantly noticed in heaven. The moment Saul began to pray the Lord heard him. Here is comfort for the distressed but praying person. Often a poor brokenhearted one bends his knee, but can only utter his wailing in the language of sighs and tears; yet that groan has made all the harps of heaven thrill with music; that tear has been caught by God and treasured in the vase of tears in heaven. “You put my tears into your bottle,” implies that they are caught as they flow. The petitioner, whose fears thwart his words, will be well understood by the Most High. He may only look up with misty eyes; but “prayer is the falling of a tear.” Tears are the diamonds of heaven; sighs are a part of the music of Jehovah’s court, and are numbered with “the sublimest strains that reach the majesty on high.” Do not think that your prayer, however weak or trembling, will be unheard. Jacob’s ladder is lofty, but our prayers shall lean upon the Angel of the covenant and so climb its starry rounds. Our God not only hears prayer but also loves to hear it. “He does not forget the cry of the humble.” True, He disregards high looks and lofty words; He cares not for the pomp and pageantry of kings; He does not listen to the swell of military music; He disregards the triumph and pride of man; but wherever there is a heart overflowing with sorrow, or a lip quivering with agony, or a deep groan, or a repentant sigh, the heart of Jehovah is open; He marks it down in the registry of His memory; He puts our prayers, like rose leaves, between the pages of His book of remembrance, and when the volume is opened at last, there shall be a precious fragrance springing up from there.

“Faith asks no signal from the skies,

To show that prayers accepted rise,

Our Priest is in His holy place,

And answers from the throne of grace.”

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

“Burning indignation has seized me because of the wicked, who forsake Your law.” — Psalm 119:53

My soul, do you feel this holy outrage at the sins of others? For otherwise, you lack inward holiness. David’s cheeks were wet with rivers of tears because of prevailing ungodliness, Jeremiah desired eyes like fountains that he might lament the iniquities of Israel, and Lot was vexed with the manner of life of the men of Sodom. Those upon whom the mark was set in Ezekiel’s vision, were those who sighed and cried for the abominations of Jerusalem. It cannot but grieve grace-saved souls to see what pains men take to go to hell. They know the evil of sin by experience, and they are alarmed to see others flying like moths into its blaze. Sin makes the righteous tremble, because it violates a holy law, which it is to every man’s highest interest to keep; it pulls down the pillars of the commonwealth. Sin in others horrifies a believer, because it puts him in mind of the immorality of his own heart: when he sees a transgressor he cries with the believer mentioned by Saint Bernard, “He fell today, and I may fall tomorrow.” Sin to a believer is horrible, because it crucified the Savior; he sees the nails and spear in every iniquity. How can a saved soul behold that cursed Christ-killing sin without abhorrence? Say, my heart, do you rationally join in all this? It is an awful thing to insult God to His face. The good God deserves better treatment, the great God claims it, the just God will have it, or repay His adversary to his face. An awakened heart trembles at the audacity of sin, and stands alarmed at the contemplation of its punishment. How monstrous a thing is rebellion! How dire a doom is prepared for the ungodly! My soul, never laugh at sin’s foolishness, in case you come to smile at sin itself. It is your enemy, and your Lord’s enemy. View it with loathing, for only so do you give evidence of the possession of holiness, without which no man can see the Lord.

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

“For I, the Lord, do not change.” — Malachi 3:6

It is well for us that, amidst all the unpredictability of life, there is One whom change cannot affect; One whose heart can never alter, and on whose brow changeability can make no furrows. All things otherwise have changed–all things are changing. The sun itself grows dim with age; the world is becoming old; the folding up of this worn-out covering has commenced; the heavens and earth must soon pass away; they shall perish, they shall turn old as a garment does; but there is only One who has immortality, of whose years there is no end, and in whose person there is no change. The delight which the mariner feels, when, after having been tossed about for many days he finally steps again upon the solid shore, is the satisfaction of a Christian when, amidst all the changes of this troubled life, he rests the foot of his faith upon this truth–“I am the Lord, I do not change.”

The stability which the anchor gives the ship when it has at last obtained a hold among the rocks, is like that which the Christian’s hope affords him when it fixes itself upon this glorious truth: With God “is no variation or shifting shadow.” Whatever his attributes were of old, they are now; his power, his wisdom, his justice, his truth, are alike unchanged. He has forever been the refuge of his people, their stronghold in the day of trouble, and he is their sure Helper still. He is unchanged in his love. He has loved his people with “an everlasting love;” he loves them now as much as ever he did, and when all earthly things shall have melted in the last inferno, his love will still wear the dew of its youth. Precious is the assurance that he changes not! The wheel of foreseeing care revolves, but its axle is eternal love.

“Death and change are busy ever,

Man decays, and ages move;

But his mercy waneth never;

God is wisdom, God is love.”

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

“And they did not understand until the flood came and took them all away; so will the coming of the Son of Man be.” — Matthew 24:39

The doom was universal, neither rich nor poor escaped; the learned and the illiterate, the admired and the abhorred, the religious and the profane, the old and the young, all sank in one common devastation. Some had doubtless ridiculed the patriarch–where now their merry jests? Others had threatened him for his passion which they had counted madness–where now their boastfulness and resolved speeches? The critic who judged the old man’s work is drowned in the same sea which covers his contemptuous companions. Those who spoke patronizingly of the good man’s faithfulness to his convictions, but did not share in them, have sunk to rise no more, and the workers who, for pay, helped to build the wondrous ark are all lost also. The flood swept them all away, and made no single exception. Even so, outside of Christ, final destruction is sure to every man of woman born; no rank, possession, or character, shall suffice to save a single soul who has not believed in the Lord Jesus. Oh, my soul, behold this wide-spread judgment and tremble at it.

How amazing was the general apathy! They were all eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, till the awful morning dawned. There was not one wise man upon earth outside of the ark. Foolishness duped the whole race, foolishness as to self-preservation–the most foolish of all follies. Foolishness in doubting the most true God–the most malignant of madnesses. Strange, my soul, is it not? All men are negligent of their souls till grace gives them reason, then they leave their madness and act like rational beings, but not till then.

All were safe in the ark, no ruin entered there, blessed be God. From the huge elephant down to the tiny mouse all were safe. The timid hare was equally secure with the courageous lion, the helpless rabbit as safe as the laborious ox. All are safe in Jesus. My soul, are you safe in him?

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

“The church in your house.” — Philemon 2

Is there a Church in this house? Are parents, children, friends, all members of it? Or are some still unconverted? Let us pause here and let the question go around–Am I a member of the Church in this house? How would Father’s heart leap for joy, and Mother’s eyes fill with holy tears if from the oldest to the youngest all were saved! Let us pray for this great mercy until the Lord shall grant it to us. Probably it had been the treasured object of Philemon’s desires to have all his household saved; but it was not at first granted him in its fullness. He had a disobedient servant, Onesimus, who, having wronged him, ran away from his service. His master’s prayers followed him, and at last, as God would have it, Onesimus was led to hear Paul preach; his heart was touched, and he returned to Philemon, not only to be a faithful servant, but a beloved brother, adding another member to the Church in Philemon’s house. Is there an unconverted servant or child absent this morning? Make special, passionate prayer that such may, on their return to their home, bring joy to all hearts with good news of what grace has done! Is there one present? Let him participate in the same earnest appeal.

If there is such a Church in our house, let us order it well, and let all act as if in the sight of God. Let us move though the common affairs of life with studied holiness, diligence, kindness, and integrity. More is expected of a Church than of an ordinary household; family worship must, in such a case, be more devout and hearty; internal love must be more warm and unbroken, and external conduct must be more sanctified and Christlike. We need not fear that the small size of our number will put us out of the list of Churches, for the Holy Spirit has here enrolled a family-church in the inspired book of remembrance. As a Church let us now draw close to the great head of the one Church universal, and let us implore him to give us grace to shine before men to the glory of his name.

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

“I cared for you in the wilderness, in the land of drought.” — Hosea 13:5

Yes, Lord, you did indeed know me in my fallen state, and even then you choose me for yourself. When I was despicable and hated myself, you received me as your child, and you satisfied my desires. Blessed forever be your name for this free, rich, abounding mercy. Since then, my inward experience has often been a wilderness; but you have possessed me still as your beloved, and poured streams of love and grace into me to cheer me, and make me fruitful. Yes, when my outward circumstances have been at the worst, and I have wandered in a land of drought, your precious presence has comforted me. Men have abandoned me when shame has awaited me, but you have known my soul in adversity, for no affliction dims the luster of your love. Most gracious Lord, I magnify you for all your faithfulness to me in trying circumstances, and I deplore that I should at any time have forgotten you and been exalted in heart, when I have owed all good things to your gentleness and love. Have mercy upon your servant in this thing!

My soul, if Jesus in this way acknowledged you in your dismal condition, be sure that you possess both himself and his cause now that you are in your prosperity. Do not be lifted up by your worldly successes so as to be ashamed of the truth. or of the poor church with which you have been associated. Follow Jesus into the wilderness: bear the cross with him when the heat of persecution grows hot. He possessed you, Oh my soul, in your poverty and shame–never be so treacherous as to be ashamed of him. Oh, let me feel shame even at the thought of being ashamed of my best Beloved! Jesus, my soul clings to you.

“I’ll turn to thee in days of light,

As well as nights of care,

Thou brightest amid all that’s bright!

Thou fairest of the fair!”

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

“Renew a right (steadfast) spirit within me.” — Psalm 51:10
A backslider, if there is any spark of life left in him, will grieve at being restored. In this kind of renewal the same exercise of grace is required as at our conversion. We needed repentance then; we certainly need it now. We wanted faith that we might come to Christ at first; only the same grace can bring us to Jesus now. We wanted a word from the Most High, a word from the lips of the loving One, to end our fears then; we shall soon discover, when under a sense of present sin, that we need it now. No man can be renewed without as real and true a manifestation of the Holy Spirit’s energy as he felt at first, because the work is just as great, and flesh and blood are as much in the way now as ever they were. Let your personal weakness, Oh Christian, be an argument to make you pray earnestly to your God for help. Remember that David, when he felt himself to be powerless, did not fold his arms or close his mouth, but he hastened to the mercy-seat with the cry to “renew a right (loyal) spirit within me.” Do not let the doctrine that you, unaided, can do nothing make you sleep; but let it be a prod in your side to drive you with an reverent earnestness to Israel’s strong Helper. Oh, that you may have grace to plead with God, as though you pleaded for your very life–“Lord, renew a right (faithful) spirit within me.” He who sincerely prays to God to do this, will prove his honesty by using the methods through which God works. Be much in prayer; live much upon the Word of God; kill the lusts which have driven your Lord from you; be careful to watch over the future uprising of sin. The Lord has his own appointed ways; sit by the wayside and you will be ready when he passes by. Continue in all those blessed disciplines which will foster and nourish your fading graces; and, knowing that all the power must proceed from him, cease not to cry, “Renew a right spirit within me.”

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

“O you who sit in the gardens, My companions are listening for your voice– Let me hear it!” — Song of Solomon 8:13

My sweet Lord Jesus remembers well the garden of Gethsemane, and although he has left that garden, he now dwells in the garden of his church: there he closely enbraces those who keep his revered company. That voice of love with which he speaks to his beloved is more musical than the harps of heaven. There is a depth of melodious love within it which leaves all human music far behind. Ten of thousands on earth, and millions above, are indulged with its harmonious strains. Some whom I know well, and whom I greatly envy, are at this moment responding to the beloved voice. Oh, that I would be a partaker of their joys! It is true some of these are poor, others bedridden, and some near the gates of death, but Oh, my Lord, I would cheerfully starve with them, ache with them, or die with them, if I might but hear your voice. Once I did hear it often, but I have grieved your Spirit. Return unto me in compassion, and once again say to me, “I am your salvation.” No other voice can make me content; I know your voice, and cannot be deceived by another; let me hear it, I pray. I do not know what you will say, neither do I make any condition, my Beloved, do but let me hear you speak, and even if it is a rebuke I will bless you for it. Perhaps I may need an operation very painful to the flesh to cleanse my deaf ear, but let it cost what it may; I do not turn from the one consuming desire, cause me to hear your voice.  Target my ear afresh; pierce my ear with your sharpest notes, only do not permit me to continue deaf to your calls. Tonight, Lord, grant your unworthy one his desire, for I am yours, and you have bought me with your blood. You have opened my eyes to see you, and the sight has saved me. Lord, open my ears. I have read your heart, now let me hear your voice.

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

“I will give thanks to the Lord with all my heart; I will tell of all Your wonders.” — Psalm 9:1

Praise and thanksgiving should always follow answered prayer, just as the mist of earth’s gratitude rises when the sun of heaven’s love warms the ground. Has the Lord been gracious to you, and inclined his ear to the voice of your earnest prayers? Then praise him as long as you live. Let the ripe fruit drop upon the fertile soil from which it drew its life. Do not deny a song to him who has answered your prayer and given you the desire of your heart. To be silent over God’s mercies is to incur the guilt of ingratitude; it is to act as dishonorably as the nine lepers, who did not return to give thanks to the healing Lord after they had been cured of their leprosy, To forget to praise God is to refuse to benefit ourselves; for praise, like prayer, is one great means of promoting the growth of the spiritual life. It helps to remove our burdens, to excite our hope, to increase our faith. It is a healthful and invigorating exercise which quickens the pulse of the believer, and braces him for fresh enterprises in his Master’s service. To bless God for mercies received is also the way to benefit our fellow-men: “The humble shall hear of it  and rejoice.” Others who have been in like circumstances shall take comfort if we can say, “O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt His name together.  I sought the Lord, and He answered me, and delivered me from all my fears.” Weak hearts will be strengthened, and wilting saints will be revived as they listen to our “songs of deliverance.” Their doubts and fears will be rebuked, as we teach and admonish one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs. They too shall “sing in the ways of the Lord,” when they hear us magnify his holy name. Praise is the most heavenly of Christian duties. The angels do not pray, but they never cease to praise both day and night; and the redeemed, clothed in white robes, with palm-branches in their hands, are never weary of singing the new song, “Worthy is the Lamb.”

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

“But their eyes were prevented from recognizing Him.” — Luke 24:16

The disciples ought to have known Jesus; they had heard his voice so often, and gazed upon that marred face so frequently, that it is astonishing they did not discover him. Yet is it also not the same with you? You have not seen Jesus lately. You have been to his table, and you have not met him there. You are in dark trouble this evening, and though he plainly says, “It is I, be not afraid,” yet you cannot discern him. Alas, our eyes are held blind! We know his voice; we have looked into his face; we have leaned  into his embrace, and yet, though Christ is very near us, we are saying “Oh, that I knew where I might find him!” We should know Jesus, for we have the Scriptures to reflect his image, and yet it is still possible it is for us to open that precious book and have no glimpse of the Well-beloved! Dear child of God, are you in that state? Jesus pastures his flock among the lilies of the word, and you walk among those lilies, and yet you do not behold him. He is accustomed to walk through the glades of Scripture, and to commune with his people, as the Father did with Adam in the cool of the day, and yet you are in the garden of Scripture, but cannot see him, though he is always there. And why do we not see him? It must be attributed in our case, as in the disciples’, to unbelief. They evidently did not expect to see Jesus, and therefore they did not know him. To a great extent, in spiritual things we get what we expect of the Lord. Faith alone can bring us to see Jesus. Make it your prayer, “Lord, open my eyes, that I may see my Savior present with me.” It is a blessed thing to want to see him; but oh, it is far better to gaze upon him! To those who seek him he is kind; but to those who find him, he is dear beyond expression!

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

“Pray, then, in this way: ‘Our Father who is in heaven…’” — Matthew 6:9

This prayer begins where all true prayer must commence, with the spirit of adoption, “Our Father.” There is no acceptable prayer until we can say, “I will arise, and go to my Father.” This child-like spirit quickly perceives the grandeur of the Father “in heaven,” and arises to devout adoration, “Hallowed be thy name.” The child stammering, “Abba, Father,” grows into the cherub crying, “Holy, Holy, Holy.” There is just a step from euphoric worship to the kindling of the missionary spirit, which is a sure outgrowth of familial love and reverent adoration–“Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Next follows the heartfelt expression of dependence upon God–“Give us this day our daily bread.” Being further illuminated by the Spirit, he discovers that he is not only dependent, but sinful, hence he pleads for mercy, “Forgive us our debts as we have forgiven our debtors:” and being pardoned, having the righteousness of Christ credited to him, and knowing his acceptance with God, he humbly appeals for holy steadfastness, “Lead us not into temptation.” The man who is really forgiven, is anxious not to offend again; the possession of justification leads to an anxious desire for sanctification. “Forgive us our debts,” is that justification; “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil,” is that sanctification in its negative and positive forms. As the result of all this, there follows a triumphant assertion of praise, “Yours is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever and ever, Amen.” We rejoice that our King reigns in foreseeing care and shall reign in grace, from the river even to the ends of the earth, and of his dominion there shall be no end. Therefore, from a sense of adoption, continuing up to fellowship with our reigning Lord, this short model of prayer shepherds the soul. Lord, teach us accordingly to pray.

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

“His head is like gold, pure gold; His locks are like clusters of dates And black as a raven.” — Song of Solomon 5:11

Comparisons all fail to describe the Lord Jesus, but the bride uses the best within her reach. By the head of Jesus we may understand his deity —  “for the head of Christ is God” — and the ingot of purest gold is the best conceivable metaphor, but still all too poor to describe one so precious, so pure, so dear, so glorious. Jesus is not a grain of gold, but a vast globe of it, a priceless mass of treasure such as earth and heaven cannot excel. The creatures of earth are mere iron and clay;  they all shall perish like wood, hay, and straw, but the ever living Head of the creation of God shall shine on forever and ever. He is pure, with no mixture, nor smallest taint of alloy. He is forever infinitely holy and altogether divine. The bushy locks depict his manly vigor. There is nothing effeminate in our Beloved. He is the manliest of men. Bold as a lion, strong as an ox, swift as an eagle, every conceivable and inconceivable beauty is to be found in him, though once he was despised and rejected of men.

“His head the finest gold;

With secret sweet perfume,

His curled locks hang all as black

As any raven’s plume.”

The glory of his head is not sheared away; he is eternally crowned with peerless majesty. The black hair indicates youthful freshness, for Jesus has the dew of his youth upon him. Others grow fatigued with age, but he is forever a Priest as was Melchizedek; others come and go, but he abides as God upon his throne, world without end. We will behold him tonight and adore him. Angels are gazing upon him–his redeemed must not turn away their eyes from him. Where else is there such a Beloved? O for an hour’s fellowship with him! Away, you intruding cares! Jesus draws me, and I run after him.

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

“But I chose you out of the world.” — John 15:19

Here is distinguishing grace and discriminating regard, for some are made the special objects of divine affection. Do not be afraid to dwell upon this high doctrine of election. When your mind is most heavy and depressed, you will find it to be a bottle of the richest drink. Those who doubt the doctrines of grace, or who relegate them into the shade, miss the richest clusters of Eshcol; they lose the most well refined wines, the tastiest rib eye steak. There is no fragrant ointment in Gilead comparable to it. If the honey Jonathan found in the woods enlightened the eyes when only touched, this is honey which will enlighten your heart to love and learn the mysteries of the kingdom of God. Eat, and fear not an oversupply; live upon this choice delicacy, and do not fear that it will be too delicate a diet. Meat from the King’s table will hurt none of his royal companions. Desire to have your mind enlarged, that you may comprehend more and more the eternal, everlasting, discriminating love of God. When you have climbed as high to consider election, spend time on its sister mount, the covenant of grace. Covenant engagements are the outcroppings of breathtaking rock behind which we lie entrenched; covenant engagements with the security, Christ Jesus, are the quiet resting-places of apprehensive spirits.

“His oath, his covenant, his blood,

Support me in the raging flood;

When every earthly prop gives way,

This still is all my strength and stay.”

If Jesus undertook to bring me to glory, and if the Father promised that he would give me to the Son to be a part of the infinite reward of the suffering of his soul; then, till God himself shall be unfaithful, till Jesus shall cease to be the truth, my soul, you are safe. When David danced before the ark, he told Michal that election made him do so. Come, my soul, exult before the God of grace and leap for joy of heart.

Editor’s Notes:  Ah, “Election” comes up again. I would ask my readers to refer to the notes on Evening, July 29^th and Morning, August 2^nd, and to read John 15 in its entirety.

David refers to the Lord in 2 Samuel 6 as the one who chose (elected?) him as king, and therefore he “will celebrate before the Lord.”

Though I sometimes change the word “election” to “selection” in my editing, I have no problem with the doctrine of election as referenced in Scripture, but just a bit with the hyper-Calvinistic interpretation.

According to Foreknowledge.   “To those … who are chosen according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, by the sanctifying work of the Spirit, to obey Jesus Christ and be sprinkled with His blood: May grace and peace be yours in the fullest measure.” — 1 Peter 1:2

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

“For all of us have become like one who is unclean.” — Isaiah 64:6

The believer is a new creature; he belongs to a holy generation and a special people; the Spirit of God is in him, and in all respects he is far removed from the natural man; but for all that, the Christian is a sinner still. He is a sinner still due to the imperfection of his nature, and will continue so to the end of his earthly life. The black fingers of sin leave smuts upon our fairest robes. Sin mars our repentance, before the great Potter has finished it upon the wheel. Selfishness defiles our tears, and unbelief tampers with our faith. The best thing we ever did apart from the merit of Jesus only increased the number of our sins; for when we have been most pure in our own sight, even like the heavens, we are not pure in God’s sight; and as he charged his angels with foolishness, much more must he charge us with it, even in our most angelic frames of mind. The song we sing, which thrills men to heaven, and seeks to emulate angelic strains, still has human discords in it. The prayer which moves the arm of God is still a bruised and battered prayer, and only moves that arm because the sinless One, the great Mediator, has stepped in to take away the sin that taints our pleading prayer. The most golden faith or the purest degree of sanctification to which a Christian ever attained on earth, still has so much mixed alloy in it as to be only worthy of the purifying flames, if considered by itself. Every night we look in the mirror we see a sinner, and have the need to confess, “All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a filthy garment.” Oh, how precious the blood of Christ is to such hearts as ours! How priceless a gift is his perfect righteousness! And how bright the hope of perfect holiness to come! Even now, though sin dwells in us, its power is broken. It has no dominion; it is a broken-backed snake; we are in bitter conflict with it, but it is with a vanquished foe that we must deal. But in just a little while we shall enter victoriously into the city where nothing defiles us.

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

“It is a faithful saying.” — 2 Timothy 2:11 (KJV)

Paul has four of these “faithful sayings.” The first occurs in 1 Timothy 1:15, “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” The next is in 1 Timothy 4:6, “Godliness is profitable unto all things, having the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come. This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation.” The third is in 2 Timothy 2:12, “It is a faithful saying–If we suffer with him we shall also reign with him”; and the fourth is in Titus 3:3, “This is a faithful saying, that they which have believed in God might be careful to maintain good works.” We may trace a connection between these faithful sayings. The first one lays the foundation of our eternal salvation in the free grace of God, as shown to us in the mission of the great Redeemer. The next affirms the double blessing which we obtain through this salvation–the blessings of the upper and lower springs–of time and of eternity. The third shows one of the duties to which the chosen people are called; we are ordained to suffer for Christ with the promise that “if we suffer, we shall also reign with him.” The last sets forth the active form of Christian service, bidding us diligently to maintain good works. Thus we have the root of salvation in free grace; next, the privileges of that salvation in the life which now is, and in that which is to come; and we have also the two great branches of suffering with Christ and serving with Christ, loaded with the fruits of the Spirit. Treasure up these faithful sayings. Let them be the guides of our life, our comfort, and our instruction. The apostle of the Gentiles proved them to be faithful, they are faithful still; not one word shall fall to the ground, they are worthy of all acceptation, let us accept them now, and prove their faithfulness. Let these four faithful sayings be written on the four corners of my house.

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

“All the rivers flow into the sea, Yet the sea is not full. To the place where the rivers flow, There they flow again.” — Ecclesiastes 1:7

Everything belonging to this world is on the move; time knows nothing of rest. The solid earth is a rolling ball, and the great sun itself a star obediently fulfilling its course around some greater luminary. Tides move the sea, winds stir the airy ocean, friction wears the rock: change and death rule everywhere. The sea is not a hoarder’s storehouse for a wealth of waters, for as by one force the waters flow into it, by another they are lifted from it. Men are born only soon to die: everything is hurry, worry, and striving after wind. As a friend of the unchanging Jesus, what a joy it is to reflect upon your changeless heritage, your sea of joy which will be forever full, since God himself shall pour eternal rivers of pleasure into it. We seek an abiding city beyond the skies, and we shall not be disappointed. The passage before us may well teach us gratitude. Father Ocean is a great receiver, but he is a generous distributor. What the rivers bring him he returns to the earth in the form of clouds and rain. That man who takes all but makes no return is out of joint with the universe. To give to others is just sowing seed for ourselves. He who is so good a steward as to be willing to use all he has for his Lord, shall be entrusted with more. Friend of Jesus, are you rendering to him in proportion to the benefit received? Much has been given you, what is your fruit? Have you done all you can? Can you not do more? To be selfish is to be wicked. Suppose the ocean gave up none of its watery treasure; it would bring ruin upon our race. God forbid that any of us should follow the selfish and destructive policy of living just for ourselves. Jesus did not live to please himself. All fullness dwells in him, but of his fullness have all we received. O for Jesus’ spirit, that here forward we may live not for ourselves!

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

“You look for much, but behold, it comes to little; when you bring it home, I blow it away. Why?” declares the LORD of hosts, “Because of My house which lies desolate, while each of you runs to his own house.” — Haggai 1:9

Uncharitable souls skimp on their contributions to the ministry and missionary operations, and call such saving good economy; little do they dream that they are consequently impoverishing themselves. Their excuse is that they must care for their own families, and they forget that to neglect the house of God is the sure way to bring ruin upon their own houses. Our God has a method in his wise provision by which he can cause our endeavors to succeed beyond our expectation, or can defeat our plans to our confusion and dismay; by a turn of his hand he can steer our vessel in a profitable direction, or run it aground in poverty and bankruptcy. It is the teaching of Scripture that the Lord enriches the liberal giver and leaves the miserly to find out that withholding tends to poverty. In a very wide sphere of observation, I have noticed that the most generous Christians in my acquaintance have been always the most happy, and almost invariably the most prosperous. I have seen the liberal giver rise to wealth of which he never dreamed; and I have as often seen the mean, ungenerous miser descend to poverty by the very thriftiness by which he thought to rise to wealth. Men trust good stewards with larger and larger sums, and so it frequently is with the Lord; he gives by cartloads to those who give by bushels. Where wealth is not bestowed, the Lord makes a little to be very much, by the contentment which the consecrated heart feels in the portion of the tithe which has been dedicated to the Lord. Selfishness looks first to home, but godliness seeks first the kingdom of God and his righteousness; yet in the long run selfishness is loss, and godliness is great gain. It takes faith to act towards our God with an open hand, but surely he deserves it of us; and all that we can do is still a very poor acknowledgment of our amazing indebtedness to his goodness.

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

“So she departed and went and gleaned in the field after the reapers; and she happened to come to the portion of the field belonging to Boaz, who was of the family of Elimelech.” — Ruth 2:3

She happened to… Yes, it seemed nothing but an accident, but how divinely was it directed! Ruth had gone forth with her mother’s blessing, under the care of her mother’s God, to humble but honorable work, and the foreseeing protective care of God was guiding her every step. Little did she know that amid the sheaves she would find a husband, that he should make her the joint owner of all those broad acres, and that she, a poor foreigner, should become one of the progenitors of the great Messiah. God is very good to those who trust in him, and often surprises them with unlooked-for blessings. Little do we know what may happen to us tomorrow, but this precious fact may cheer us, that no good thing shall be withheld. Chance is banished from the faith of Christians, for they see the hand of God in everything. The trivial events of today or tomorrow may involve consequences of the highest importance. O Lord, deal as graciously with your servants as you did with Ruth.

What a blessing it would be, if, in wandering in the field of meditation tonight, we should “happen to” light upon the place where our next Kinsman will reveal himself to us! O Spirit of God, guide us to him. We would sooner glean in his field than carry away the whole harvest from any other. O, guide us in the footsteps of his flock, which may conduct us to the green pastures where he dwells! This is a weary world when Jesus is away–we could better do without sun and moon than without him–but how divinely fair all things become in the glory of his presence! Our souls know the virtue which dwells in Jesus, and can never be content without him. We will wait in prayer this night until we “happen to” light on a part of the field belonging to Jesus where he will reveal himself to us.

Editor’s notes: I awoke from my sleep this morning dreaming of wheat, and tares. In my dream I was managing a wheat processing plant; many bags had been contaminated, and the only viable option was to discard them. (Then I went to my devotional reading and it was about Ruth gleaning in the fields.) 

Bitterness and unforgiveness is like contamination in our hearts. Esau became bitter against Jacob, leading to exile. The descendants of Ismael are bitter today against the descendants of his half-brother Issac, leading to millennia of nearly constant war. I’ve been meditating on Hebrews 12 for a while now, where we are told, “See to it that no one comes short of the grace of God; that no root of bitterness springing up causes trouble, and by it many be defiled.”

Do you get angry when remembering wrongs done to you? Love“is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.” (1 Cor. 13:15).

Does that person make no attempt at mending the wounds they’ve caused, so you isolate yourself from them?  “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them.  If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same.  If you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners in order to receive back the same amount.  But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High; for He Himself is kind to ungrateful and evil men. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. (Luke 6:32-36)

Can you not forgive them?  Jesus instructed us always to pray “forgive us our sins, as we have forgiven those who sin against us.” This is perhaps the only condition I see on our receiving forgiveness from God: “But if you do not forgive others, then your Father will not forgive your transgressions.” (Matt. 6:15)

There is no place for “bad seed” in our hearts… Who wants just a little dung in their food, just a little water in the gas in their car…

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

“For the sake of the truth which abides in us and will be with us forever.” — 2 John 2

Once the truth of God obtains an entrance into the human heart and subdues the whole man to itself, no human or demonic power can dislodge it. We do not accommodate it as a guest–but as the master of the house—indeed, this is a Christian obligation. He is no Christian who does not so believe. Those who feel the dynamic power of the gospel, and know the might of the Holy Spirit as he opens, applies, and seals the Lord’s Word, would sooner be torn to pieces than be ripped away from the gospel of their salvation. A thousand mercies are wrapped up in the assurance that the truth will be with us forever, will be our living support, our dying comfort, our rising song, our eternal glory; this is our Christian privilege, and without it our faith would be worth little. Some truths we outgrow and leave behind, for they are just rudiments and lessons for beginners, but we cannot deal in this way with Divine truth, for though it is sweet food for babies, it is in the highest sense, strong meat for men. The truth that we are sinners is painfully with us to humble and make us watchful; the more blessed truth, that whoever believes on the Lord Jesus shall be saved, abides with us as our hope and joy. Experience, so far from loosening our hold of the doctrines of grace, has interwoven us to them more and more firmly; our grounds and motives for believing are now more strong, more numerous than ever, and we have reason to expect that it will be so, until in death we clasp the Savior in our arms.

Wherever this abiding love of truth can be discovered, we are bound to put our love into effect. No narrow circle can contain our grace-driven compassion, and as wide as our selection by his grace is, so also should be our communion of heart. Much error may be mingled with the truth we receive; let us battle the error, but still love our brothers for the measure of truth which we see in them. Above all let us love and spread the truth ourselves.

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

“He began to wash the disciples’ feet.” — John 13:5

The Lord Jesus loves his people so much, that every day he is still doing for them much that is analogous to washing their soiled feet. Their weakest actions he accepts; their deepest sorrow he feels; their slightest wish he hears, and their every transgression he forgives. He is still their servant as well as their Friend and Master. He not only performs majestic deeds for them, as wearing the crown on his brow, and the precious jewels glittering on his breastplate, and standing up to plead for them, but humbly, patiently, he even yet goes about among his people with the basin and the towel. He does this when he puts away from us day by day our constant infirmities and sins. Last night, when you bowed to pray, you sorrowfully confessed that much of your conduct was not worthy of your profession; and even tonight, you must mourn anew that you have fallen again into the identical folly and sin from which special grace delivered you long ago; and yet Jesus will have great patience with you; he will hear your confession of sin; he will say, “I will; be clean”; he will again apply the blood of sprinkling, and speak peace to your conscience, and remove every spot. It is a great act of eternal love when Christ once for all absolves the sinner, and puts him into the family of God; but what a gracious endurance there is when the Savior with much patience bears the oft reoccurring follies of his wayward disciple; day by day, and hour by hour, stooping down to wash away the multiplied transgressions of his erring but yet beloved child! To dry up a flood of rebellion is something marvelous, but to endure the constant dripping of repeated offences–to bear with a perpetual trying of patience, this is divine indeed! While we find comfort and peace in our Lord’s daily cleansing, its legitimate influence upon us will be to increase our watchfulness, and enliven our desire for holiness. Is it so?

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

“The trees of the LORD drink their fill.” — Psalm 104:16

Without sap the tree cannot flourish or even exist. Vitality is essential to a Christian. There must be life–a vital principle infused into us by God the Holy Spirit, or we cannot be trees of the Lord. The mere name of being a Christian is just a dead thing; we must be filled with the spirit of divine life. This life is mysterious. We do not understand the circulation of the sap, by what force it rises, and by what power it descends again. So also the life within us is a sacred mystery. Regeneration is wrought by the Holy Spirit entering into man and becoming man’s life; and this divine life in a believer afterwards feeds upon the flesh and blood of Christ and is thus sustained by divine food, but from where it comes and where it goes, who can explain to us? What a secret thing the sap is! The roots go searching through the soil with their little outshoots, but we cannot see them suck out the various gases, or transmute the mineral into the vegetable; this work is done down in the dark. Our root is Christ Jesus, and our life is hidden in him; this is the secret of the Lord. The root system of the Christian life is as secret as the life itself. How permanently active is the sap in the cedar! In the Christian the divine life is always full of energy–not always in fruit-bearing, but in inward operations. The believer’s graces are not every one of them in constant motion, but his life never ceases to pulse within. He is not always working for God, but his heart is always living dependent upon him. As the sap manifests itself in producing the foliage and fruit of the tree, so with a truly healthy Christian, his grace is externally manifested in his walk and manner of speech. If you talk with him, he cannot help speaking about Jesus. If you notice his actions you will see that he has been with Jesus. He has so much sap within, that it must fill his conduct and passion with life.

Evening, October 23, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Why are you sleeping? Rise and pray that you may not enter into temptation.” — Luke 22:46

When is the Christian most liable to sleep? Is it not when his earthly circumstances are prosperous? Have you not found this to be so? When you had troubles daily to take to the throne of grace, were you not more wakeful than you are now? Easy roads make sleepy travelers. Another dangerous time is when all goes pleasantly in spiritual matters. In Pilgrim’s Progress, Christian did not go to sleep when lions were in the way, or when he was wading through the river, or when fighting with Apollyon; but when he had climbed half way up the Hill Difficulty, and came to a delightful arbor, he sat down, and immediately fell asleep, to his great sorrow and loss. The enchanted ground is a place of balmy breezes, laden with fragrant odors and soft influences, all tending to lull pilgrims to sleep. Remember Bunyan’s description: “Then they came to an arbor, warm, and promising much refreshing to the weary pilgrims; for it was finely formed overhead, beautified with greens, and furnished with benches and settees. It had also in it a soft couch, where the weary might lean.” “The arbor was called the Slothful’s Friend, and was made on purpose to allure, if it might be, some of the pilgrims to take up their rest there when weary.” Depend upon it; it is in easy places that men shut their eyes and wander into the dreamy land of forgetfulness. The old Scot Ebenezer Erskine wisely remarked, “I like a roaring devil better than a sleeping devil.” There is no temptation half so dangerous as not being tempted. The distressed soul does not sleep; it is after we enter into peaceful confidence and full self-assurance that we are in danger of slumbering. The disciples fell asleep after they had seen Jesus transfigured on the mountain top. Take heed, joyous Christian, good natures are near neighbors to temptations: be as happy as you will, only be watchful.

Morning, October 23, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“You do not want to go away also, do you?” — John 6:67

Many have forsaken Christ, and have quit walking with him; but what reason have you to make a change? Has there been any reason for it in the past? Has not Jesus proved himself entirely sufficient? He appeals to you this morning: “Have I been a wilderness to you?” When your soul has simply trusted Jesus, have you ever been defeated? Have you not up till now found your Lord to be a compassionate and generous friend to you, and has not simple faith in him given you all the peace your spirit could desire? Can you so much as dream of a better friend than he has been to you? Then do not change the old and tried for the new and false. As for the present trial, can that compel you to leave Christ? When we are relentless afflicted with this world, or with severe trials within the Church, we find it a most blessed thing to pillow our head into the embrace of our Savior. This is the joy we have today that we are saved in him; and if this joy is satisfying, why should we think of changing? Who exchanges gold for dross? We will not disown the sun until we find a better light, nor leave our Lord until a brighter lover shall appear; and, since this can never be, we will hold him with an immortal grasp, and emboss his name as a seal upon our arm. As for the future, can you suggest anything which can arise that shall render it necessary for you to mutiny, or desert the old flag to serve under another captain? We think not. If life lasts long–he changes not. If we are poor, what better than to have Christ who can make us rich? When we are sick, what more do we want than Jesus to make our bed in our sickness? When we die, is it not written that “neither death, nor life, nor things present, nor things to come, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord!” We say with Peter, “Lord, to whom shall we go?”

Evening, October 22, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“He takes of Mine and will disclose it to you.” — John 16:15

There are times when all the promises and doctrines of the Bible are of no benefit, unless a gracious hand applies them to us. We are thirsty, but too weak to crawl to the stream of water. When a soldier is wounded in battle it is of little use for him to know that there are those at the hospital who can dress his wounds, and medicine there to ease all the pain which he now suffers: what he needs is to be carried there, and to have the treatments applied. It is also so with our souls, and to meet this need there is one, even the Spirit of truth, who takes of the things of Jesus, and applies them to us. Do not think that Christ has placed his delights on heavenly shelves that we may climb up to them for ourselves, but he draws near, and sheds his peace abroad in our hearts. O Christian, if you are tonight laboring under deep distress, your Father does not give you promises and then leave you to draw them up from the Word like buckets from a well, but the promises he has written in the Word he will write anew on your heart. He will demonstrate his love to you, and by his blessed Spirit, dispel your cares and troubles. Be it known to you, O mourner, that it is God’s prerogative to wipe every tear from the eye of his people. The good Samaritan did not say, “Here is the wine, and here is the oil for you;” he actually poured in the oil and the wine. So, Jesus not only gives you the sweet wine of the promise, but holds the golden chalice to your lips, and pours the life-blood into your mouth. The poor, sick, way-worn pilgrim is not merely strengthened to walk, but he is borne on eagles’ wings. It is such a glorious gospel which provides everything for the helpless, which draws close to us when we cannot reach after it, and brings us grace before we seek for grace! There is here as much glory in the giving as in the gift. They are happy people who have the Holy Spirit to bring Jesus to them.

Morning, October 22, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“I will love them freely.” — Hosea 14:4

This sentence is a body of divine truth in miniature. He who understands its meaning is a theologian, and he who can dive into its fulness is a true master in Israel. It is a condensation of the glorious message of salvation which was delivered to us in Christ Jesus our Redeemer. The sense hinges upon the word “freely.” This is the glorious, the appropriate, the divine way by which love streams from heaven to earth, a spontaneous love flowing forth to those who neither deserved it, purchased it, nor sought after it. It is, indeed, the only way in which God can love such as we are. The text is a death-blow to all sorts of fitness: “I will love them freely.” Now, if there were any qualification necessary in us, then he would not love us freely; at least, this would be a mitigation and a drawback to the freeness of it. But it stands, “I will love you freely.” We complain, “Lord, my heart is so hard.” “I will love you freely.” “But I do not feel my need of Christ as I could wish.” “I will not love you because you feel your need; I will love you freely.” “But I do not feel that softening of spirit which I could desire.” Remember, a softening of spirit is not a condition, for there are no conditions — the covenant of grace has no conditionality whatever — so that we without any qualification may move ahead upon the promise of God which was made to us in Christ Jesus, when he said, “He that believes on him is not condemned.” It is blessed to know that the grace of God is free to us at all times, without preparation, without qualification, without money, and without price! “I will love them freely.” These words invite backsliders to return: indeed, the text was specially written for such: “I will heal their backsliding; I will love them freely.” Backslider! Surely the generosity of the promise will at once break your heart, and you will return, and seek your injured Father’s face.

Evening, October 21, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts?” — Luke 24:38

“Why do you say, O Jacob, and assert, O Israel, “My way is hidden from the LORD, And the justice due me escapes the notice of my God?” The Lord cares for all things, and the lowest creatures share in his universal provision and care, but his particular foreseeing provision is over his saints. “The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear Him, And rescues them.” “Precious is their blood in his sight.” “Precious in the sight of the Lord Is the death of His godly ones.” “And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” Let the fact cheer and comfort you, that while he is the Savior of all men, he is especially the Savior of them that believe. You are the target of his special care; his regal treasure which he guards as the apple of his eye; his vineyard over which he watches day and night. “The very hairs of your head are all numbered.” Let the thought of his special love to you be a spiritual pain-killer, a dear salve to your distress: “I will never leave you, nor forsake you.” God says that as much to you as to any saint of old. “I am a shield to you; Your reward shall be very great..” We lose much comfort by the habit of reading his promises for the whole church, instead of taking them directly home to ourselves. Believer, grasp the divine word with a personal, possessing faith. Imagine that you hear Jesus say, ” But I have prayed for you,  that your faith may not fail.” Imagine you see him walking on the waters of your trouble, for he is there, and he is saying, “Fear not, it is I; be not afraid.” Oh, those sweet words of Christ! May the Holy Spirit make you feel them as if spoken to you; forget others for awhile–accept the voice of Jesus as addressed to you, and say, “Jesus whispers comfort; I cannot refuse it; I will sit under his shadow with great delight.”

Morning, October 21, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“For the love of Christ controls us.” — 2 Corinthians 5:14

How much do you owe my Lord? Has he ever done anything for you? Has he forgiven your sins? Has he covered you with a robe of righteousness? Has he set your feet upon a rock? Has he established your paths? Has he prepared heaven for you? Has he prepared you for heaven? Has he written your name in his book of life? Has he given you countless blessings? Has he laid up for you a wealth of mercies, which eye has not seen nor ear heard?

Then do something for Jesus worthy of his love. Do not give merely a wordy offering to a dying Redeemer. How will you feel when your Master comes, if you have to confess that you did nothing for him, but kept your love shut up, like a stagnant pool, neither flowing forth to his poor or to his work. The jury is out on such love as that! What do men think of a love which never shows itself in action? Why, they say, “Open rebuke is better than secret love.” Who will accept a love so weak that it does not motivate you to a single deed of self-denial, of generosity, of heroism, or zeal! Think how he has loved you, and given himself for you! Do you know the power of that love? Then let it be like a rushing mighty wind to your soul to sweep out the clouds of your worldliness, and clear away the mists of sin. “For Christ’s sake” let this be the tongue of fire that shall sit upon you: “for Christ’s sake” let this be the divine rhapsody, the heavenly wind to bear you aloft from earth, the divine spirit that shall make you bold as lions and swift as eagles in your Lord’s service. Love should give wings to the feet of service, and strength to the arms of labor. Fixed on God with a faithfulness that is not to be shaken, with resolve to honor him with a determination that is not to be turned aside, and pressing on with an ardor never to be wearied, let us manifest the limits of love to Jesus. May the divine lodestone draw us heavenward towards itself.

Evening, October 20, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Do not hold back.” — Isaiah 43:6

Although this message was sent to the south, and referred to the seed of Israel, it may profitably be a summons to ourselves. We tend to move backward naturally from all good things, and it is a lesson of grace to learn to go forward in the ways of God. Reader, are you unconverted, but do you desire to trust in the Lord Jesus? Then do not hold back. Love invites you, the promises secure you success, the precious blood prepares the way. Do not let sins or fears hinder you, but come to Jesus just as you are. Do you long to pray? Would you pour out your heart before the Lord? Do not hold back. The mercy-seat is prepared for those such as you that need mercy; a sinner’s cries will prevail with God. You are invited — indeed, you are commanded — to pray; come therefore with boldness to the throne of grace.

Dear friend, are you already saved? Then do not hold back from union with the Lord’s people. Do not neglect the decrees of baptism and the Lord’s Supper. You may be of a timid disposition, but you must strive against it, so as not to have it lead you into disobedience. There is a precious promise made to those who confess Christ–by no means miss it, so as not to have you come under the condemnation of those who deny him. If you have talents do not hold back from using them. Do not hoard your wealth, do not waste your time; do not let your abilities rust or your influence be unused. Jesus did not hold back; imitate him by being foremost in self-denial and self-sacrifice. Do not hold back from close communion with God, from boldly seizing covenant blessings, from advancing in the divine life, from prying into the precious mysteries of the love of Christ. Neither, beloved friend, be guilty of keeping others back by your coldness, harshness, or suspicion. For Jesus’ sake go forward yourself, and encourage others to do the like. Hell and the besieging bands of superstition and infidelity are leaning forward into the fight. O soldiers of the cross, do not hold back.

Morning, October 20, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“We are to grow up in all aspects into Him.” – Ephesians 4:15

Many Christians remain stunted and dwarfed in spiritual things, so much as to present the same appearance year after year. No welling up of progressed and refined feeling is evident in them. They exist but do not “grow up into him in all aspects.” But should we rest content with being in the “green blade,” when we might advance to “the ear,” and eventually ripen into the “full corn in the ear?” Should we be satisfied to believe in Christ, and to say, “I am safe,” without wishing to know in our own experience more of the fullness which is to be found in him?

It should not be so; we should, as good traders in heaven’s market, desire to be enriched in the knowledge of Jesus. It is all very well to care for other men’s vineyards, but we must not neglect our own spiritual growth and ripening. Why should it always be winter time in our hearts? We must have our sowing time, it is true, but oh, for a spring time–yes, a summer season, which shall give promise of an early harvest. If we would ripen in grace, we must live near to Jesus–in his presence–ripened by the sunshine of his smile. We must have precious communion with him. We must forsake a distant view of his face and come near, as John did, and rest our head on his breast; then shall we find ourselves advancing in holiness, in love, in faith, in hope–yes, in every precious gift. As the sun rises first on mountain-tops and gilds them with its light, and presents one of the most charming sights to the eye of the traveler, so is it one of the most delightful contemplations in the world to mark the glow of the Spirit’s light on the head of some saint, who has risen up in spiritual stature, like Saul, above his companions, until, like a mighty Alp, snow-capped, he reflects first among the chosen, the beams of the Sun of Righteousness, and bears the sheen of his radiant splendor high aloft for all to see, and seeing it, to glorify his Father which is in heaven.

Evening, October 19, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“God, my maker, who gives songs in the night.” — Job 35:10

Any man can sing in the day. When the cup is full, man draws inspiration from it. When wealth rolls in abundance around him, any man can praise the God who gives a plentiful harvest or sends home a loaded vessel. It is easy enough for an Aeolian harp to whisper music when the winds blow–the difficulty arises for music to swell forth when no wind is stirring. It is easy to sing when we can read the notes by daylight; but the skillful sings when there is not a ray of light to read by—one who sings from his heart. No man can make a song in the night by himself; he may attempt it, but he will find that a song in the night must be divinely inspired. Let all things go well, I can weave songs, fashioning them wherever I go out of the flowers that grow upon my path; but put me in a desert, where no green thing grows, and where will I frame a hymn of praise to God? How shall a mortal man make a crown for the Lord where no jewels are? Just let this voice be clear, and this body full of health, and I can sing God’s praise: silence my tongue, lay me upon the bed of suffering, and how shall I then vocalize God’s high praises, unless he himself gives me the song? No, it is not in man’s power to sing when all is opposing, unless an altar-coal from heaven shall touch his lip. It was a divine song, which Habakkuk sang, when in the night he said,

“Though the fig tree should not blossom

And there be no fruit on the vines,

Though the yield of the olive should fail

And the fields produce no food,

Though the flock should be cut off from the fold

And there be no cattle in the stalls,

Yet I will exult in the Lord,

I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.”

Then, since our Maker gives songs in the night, let us wait upon him for the music. O Chief Musician, let us not remain without song because affliction is upon us, but tune our lips to the melody of thanksgiving.

Morning, October 19, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Infants in Christ.” — 1 Corinthians 3:1

Are you grieved, believer, because you are so weak in the spiritual life — because your faith is so little, your love so unsteady? Cheer up, for you have cause for gratitude. Remember that in some things you are equal to the greatest and most full-grown Christian. You are as much bought with blood as he is. You are as much an adopted child of God as any other believer. An infant is as truly a child of its parents as is the full-grown man. You are as completely justified, for your justification is not a thing of degrees: you are counted as just, for your little faith has made you every bit clean. You have as much right to the precious things of the covenant as the most advanced believers, for your right to covenant mercy lies not in your growth, but in the covenant itself; and your faith in Jesus is not the measure, but the token of your inheritance in him. You are as rich as the richest, perhaps not in enjoyment, but in real possession. The smallest star that gleams is still set in heaven; the faintest ray of light has an affinity with the great bright sphere of day. In the family register of glory the small and the great are written with the same pen. You are as dear to your Father’s heart as the greatest in the family. Jesus is very tender towards you. You are like a smoking wick; a harsher spirit would say, “put out that smoking wick, it fills the room with an offensive odor,” but the smoking flax he will not quench. You are like a bruised reed; and any less tender hand than that of the Chief Musician would tread upon you or throw you away, but he will never break the bruised reed. Instead of being downcast because of what you are, you should triumph in Christ. Am I but little in Israel? Yet in Christ I am made to sit in heavenly places. Am I poor in faith? Still, in Jesus I am heir of all things. Though “less than nothing I can boast, and [my] vanity confess,” I will — if the root of the matter be in me — rejoice in the Lord, and glory in the God of my salvation.

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

“Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice.” — 1 Samuel 15:22

Saul had been commanded to utterly slay all the Amalekites and their livestock. Instead of doing so, he preserved the king, and allowed his people to take the best of the oxen and of the sheep. When called to account for this, he declared that he did it with a view of offering sacrifice to God; but Samuel met him at once with the declaration that sacrifices were no excuse for an act of direct rebellion. The sentence before us is worthy to be printed in letters of gold, and to be hung up before the eyes of the present idolatrous generation, who are very fond of the attire of self-made worship, but utterly neglect the laws of God. May it always be in your remembrance, that to keep strictly in the path of your Savior’s command is better than any outward form of religion; and to listen to his precept with an attentive ear is better than to bring the fat of rams, or any other precious thing to lay upon his altar. If you are failing to keep the least of Christ’s commands to his disciples, I would pray that you be disobedient no longer. All the pretensions you make of attachment to your Master, and all the devout actions which you may perform, are no recompense for disobedience. “To obey,” even in the slightest and smallest thing, “is better than sacrifice,” however ostentatious. Do not talk of Gregorian chants, sumptuous robes, incense, and banners; the first thing which God requires of his child is obedience; and though you should give your body to be burned, and all your goods to feed the poor, yet if you do not listen to the Lord’s precepts, all your formalities shall profit you nothing. It is a blessed thing to be teachable as a little child, but it is a much more blessed thing when one has been taught the lesson, to carry it out to the letter. How many adorn their temples and decorate their priests, but refuse to obey the word of the Lord! My soul, do not share in their secret things.

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

“Your paths drip with fatness.” – Psalm 65:11

Many are “the paths of the Lord” which “drip fatness,” but a special one is the path of prayer. No believer who spends much time in the prayer closet, will have need to cry, “I am lacking, I am famished; woe is me.” Starving souls live at a distance from the mercy seat, and become like the parched fields in times of drought. Persistent wrestling with God in prayer is sure to make the believer strong–if not happy. The nearest place to the gate of heaven is the throne of heavenly grace. Spend much time alone with Jesus, and you will have much confidence; spend little alone with Jesus, your religion will be shallow, polluted with many doubts and fears, and not sparkling with the joy of the Lord. Since the soul-enriching path of prayer is open to the very weakest saint–since no high attainments are required–since you are not called to come because you are an advanced saint, but freely invited if you be a saint at all–see to it, dear reader, that you are often spending time in the way of private devotion. Be often on your knees, for so Elijah drew the rain upon famished Israel’s fields.

There is another special path dropping with fatness to those who walk in that; it is the secret walk of communion. Oh, the delights of fellowship with Jesus! Earth has no words which can set forth the holy calm of a soul leaning in Jesus’ embrace. Few Christians understand it, they live in the lowlands and seldom climb to the top of Mt. Nebo: they live in the outer court, they do not enter the holy place, they do not take up the privilege of priesthood. At a distance they see the sacrifice, but they do not sit down with the priest to eat of it, and to enjoy the fat of the burnt offering. But, you, reader, sit ever under the shadow of Jesus; come up to that palm tree, and take hold of the branches thereof; let your beloved be to you as the apple-tree among the trees of the wood, and you shell be satisfied as with marrow and fatness. O Jesus, visit us with thy salvation!

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

“In His arm He will gather the lambs.” — Isaiah 40:11

Our good Shepherd has in his flock sheep with a variety of experiences: some are strong in the Lord, and others are weak in faith, but he is impartial in his care for all his sheep, and the weakest lamb is as dear to him as the most mature of the flock. Lambs are inclined to lag behind, prone to wander, and apt to grow weary, but from all the danger of these weaknesses the Shepherd protects them with his arm of power. He finds newborn souls, like young lambs, ready to perish–he nourishes them till life becomes vigorous; he finds weak minds ready to faint and die–he consoles them and renews their strength. He gathers all the little ones, for it is not the will of our heavenly Father that one of them should perish. What a quick eye he must have to see them all! What a tender heart to care for them all! What a far reaching and powerful arm, to gather them all! In his lifetime on earth he was a great gatherer of the weak, and now that he dwells in heaven, his loving heart yearns towards the meek and contrite, the timid and feeble, the fearful and fainting here below. How gently did he gather me to himself, to his truth, to his blood, to his love, to his church! With what effective grace did he compel me to come to himself! Since my first conversion, how frequently has he restored me from my wanderings, and once again folded me within the circle of his everlasting arm! The best of all is, that he does it all himself personally, not delegating the task of love, but descending himself to rescue and preserve his most unworthy servant. How shall I love him enough or serve him worthily? I would gladly make his name great to the ends of the earth, but what can my feebleness do for him? Great Shepherd, add to your mercies towards me this one other, a heart to love you more truly as I ought.

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

“Then David said to himself, “Now I will perish one day by the hand of Saul.” — 1 Samuel 27:1

The thought in David’s heart at this time was false, because he certainly had no ground for thinking that God’s anointing by Samuel was intended to be left as an empty, unmeaning act. On no occasion had the Lord deserted his servant; he had been placed in perilous positions often, but not one instance had occurred in which divine intervention had not delivered him. The trials to which he had been exposed had been varied; they had not assumed one form only, but many–yet in every case he who sent the trial had also graciously ordained a way of escape. David could not put his finger upon any entry in his diary, and say of it, “Here is evidence that the Lord will forsake me,” for the entire tenor of his past life proved the very reverse. From what God had already done for him he should have argued that God would still be his defender. But is this not the very same way that we doubt God’s help? Is it not mistrust without a cause? Have we ever had the shadow of a reason to doubt our Father’s goodness? Have not his loving kindnesses been marvelous? Has he once failed to justify our trust? Absolutely not! Our God has not left us at any time. We have had dark nights, but the star of love has shone forth amid the blackness; we have been in severe conflicts, but over our head he has held aloft the shield of our defense. We have gone through many trials, but never to our detriment, but always to our advantage; and the conclusion from our past experience is that he who has been with us in six troubles, will not forsake us in the seventh. What we have known of our faithful God proves that he will keep us to the end. Let us not, then, reason contrary to evidence. How can we ever be so ungenerous as to doubt our God? Lord, throw down the Jezebel of our unbelief, and let the dogs devour it.

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

“For with You is the fountain of life.” — Psalm 36:9

There are times in our spiritual experience when human counsel or sympathy, or religious decrees, fail to comfort or help us. Why does our gracious God permit this? Perhaps it is because we have been living too much without him, and he therefore takes away everything upon which we have been in the habit of depending, that he may drive us to himself. It is a blessed thing to live at the wellhead. While our water bottles are full, we are content, like Hagar and Ishmael, to go into the wilderness; but when those are dry, nothing will serve us but “You, God see me.” We are like the prodigal, we love the pig troughs and forget our Father’s house. Remember, we can make swine troughs and husks even out of forms of religion; although they are blessed things, if we put them in God’s place, then they are of no value. Anything becomes an idol when it keeps us away from God: even the brazen serpent of Moses can be despised as the idol “Nehushtan,” if we worship it instead of God. The prodigal was never safer than when he was driven to his father’s embrace, because he could find nourishment nowhere else. Our Lord favors us with a famine in the land that it may make us seek after himself the more. The best position for a Christian is living wholly and directly on God’s grace–still abiding where he stood at first–“Having nothing, and yet possessing all things.” Let us never for a moment think that our standing is in our sanctification, our sacrifices, our gifts, or our feelings, but know that because Christ offered a full atonement, therefore we are saved, for we are complete in him. Having nothing of our own to trust in, but resting upon the merits of Jesus–his passion and holy life– furnish us with the only sure ground of confidence. Beloved, when we are brought to a dry and parched condition, we are sure to turn to the fountain of life with eagerness.

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

 “Jesus said to them, ‘Come and have breakfast.’” (“Come and dine,” KJV) — John 21:12

In these words the believer is invited to a holy nearness to Jesus. “Come and dine,” implies the same table, the same meat; yes, and sometimes it means to sit side by side, and lean our head into the Savior’s embrace. It is being brought into the banquet-house, where the banner of redeeming love waves. “Come and dine,” gives us a vision of union with Jesus, because the only food that we can feast upon when we dine with Jesus is himself. Oh, what a union this is! It is to a depth which reason cannot fathom, that we in this way feed upon Jesus. “He that eats my flesh, and drinks my blood, dwells in me, and I in him.” It is also an invitation to enjoy fellowship with the saints. Christians may differ on a variety of points, but they have all one spiritual appetite; and if we cannot all feel alike, we can all feed alike on the bread of life sent down from heaven. At the table of fellowship with Jesus we are one bread and one cup. As the loving cup goes around we share a pledge with one another heartily therein. Get nearer to Jesus, and you will find yourself linked more and more in spirit to all who are like yourself, supported by the same heavenly manna. If we were more near to Jesus we should be more near to one another. We likewise see in these words the source of strength for every Christian. To look at Christ is to live, but for strength to serve him you must “come and dine.” We labor under much unnecessary weakness on account of neglecting this precept of the Master. None of us need to put ourselves on a scant diet; on the contrary, we should fatten on the marrow and fatness of the gospel that we may accumulate strength there, and urge every bit of might to its full force in the Master’s service. Thus, then, if you would wish nearness to Jesus, union with Jesus, love to his people and strength from Jesus, “come and dine” with him by faith.

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

“You shall redeem with a lamb the first offspring from a donkey; and if you do not redeem it, then you shall break its neck.” — Exodus 34:20

Every firstborn creature must be the Lord’s, but since the donkey was unclean, it could not be presented in sacrifice. What then? Should it be allowed to go free from the universal law? By no means. God allows no exceptions. The donkey is his due, but he will not accept it; he will not absolve the claim, but yet he cannot be pleased with the sacrifice. No way of escape remained but redemption–the creature must be saved by the substitution of a lamb in its place; or if not redeemed, it must die. My soul, here is a lesson for you. That unclean animal is you; you are justly the property of the Lord who made you and preserves you, but you are so sinful that God will not, cannot, accept you; so it has come to this:  the Lamb of God must stand in your place, or you must die eternally. Let all the world know of your gratitude to that spotless Lamb who has already bled for you, and so redeemed you from the fatal curse of the law. Must it not have sometimes been a question with the Israelite as to which should die, the donkey or the lamb? Would not the good man pause to estimate and compare? Assuredly there was no comparison between the value of the soul of man and the life of the Lord Jesus, and yet the Lamb dies, and man the donkey is spared. My soul, admire the boundless love of God to you and others of the human race. Worms are bought with the blood of the Son of the Highest! Dust and ashes are redeemed with a price far above silver and gold! What a doom had been mine had not a wealth of redemption been found! The breaking of the neck of the donkey was but a momentary penalty, but who shall measure the wrath to come to which no limit can be imagined? Inestimably dear is the glorious Lamb who has redeemed us from such a doom.

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

“But who can endure the day of His coming?” — Malachi 3:2

His first coming was without external pageantry or show of power, and yet in truth there were few who could abide its mighty testing. Herod and all Jerusalem with him were stirred at the news of the wondrous birth. Those who supposed themselves to be waiting for him, showed the fallacy of their allegiance by rejecting him when he came. His life on earth was a winnowing fan, which tried the great seed pile of religious profession, and few could stand the process. But what will his second arrival be? What sinner can endure to think of it? “He will strike the earth with the rod of His mouth, and with the breath of His lips He will slay the wicked.” When in his humiliation he only said to the soldiers, “I am he,” they fell backward; what will be the terror of his enemies when he shall more fully reveal himself as the great “I am?” His death shook earth and darkened heaven, what shall be the dreadful splendor of that day in which as the living Savior, he shall summon the living and dead before him? O that the terrors of the Lord would persuade men to forsake their sins and give worship to the Son, that He not become angry! Though a lamb, he is even still the lion of the tribe of Judah, rending the prey in pieces; and though he does not break the bruised reed, he will break his enemies with a rod of iron, and dash them in pieces like a piece of pottery. None of his foes shall bear up before the storm of his wrath, or hide themselves from the sweeping hail of his indignation; but his beloved blood-washed people look for his appearing with joy, and hope to accept it without fear; to them he sits as a refiner even now, and when he has tried them they shall come forth as gold. Let us search ourselves this morning and make sure of our calling and election, so that the coming of the Lord may cause no dark premonitions in our mind. O for grace to cast away all hypocrisy, and to be found of him sincere and without reproach in the day of his appearing.

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

“And do not be conformed to this world.” — Romans 12:2

If a Christian can possibly be saved while he conforms to this world, at any rate it must be so as by fire. Such a meager salvation is almost as much to be dreaded as desired. Reader, would you wish to leave this world in the darkness of a despondent death bed, and enter heaven as a shipwrecked mariner climbs the rocks of his native country? Then be worldly; be mixed up with those fixated on wealth, and refuse to go outside the camp bearing Christ’s reproach. But would you have a heaven here below as well as a heaven above? Would you comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God? Would you receive an abundant entrance into the joy of your Lord? Then come out from among them, and be separate, and do not touch the “unclean thing.” Do you wish to attain the full assurance of faith? You cannot gain it while you closely fellowship with sinners. Would you be alight with fervent love? Your love will be dampened by the drenching of godless society. You cannot become a great Christian–you may be a babe in grace, but you never can be a perfect man in Christ Jesus while you yield yourself to the worldly principles and mode of business of men of the world. It is detrimental for an heir of heaven to be a great friend with the heirs of hell. It looks bad when a courtier is too intimate with his king’s enemies. Even small inconsistencies are dangerous. Little thorns make great blisters, little moths destroy fine garments, and little trivialities and a little dishonesty will rob religion of a thousand joys. O professor, too little separated from sinners, you do not now know what you lose by your conformity to the world. It cuts the tendons of your strength, and makes you creep when you ought to run. Then, for your own comfort’s sake, and for the sake of your growth in grace, if you would be a Christian, be a Christian, and be a marked and distinct one.

Editor’s note: The second part of this verse is as important as the warnings Spurgeon give us: “But be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.” He continues with encouragement to serve, to pray, to fellowship with believers.  And he ends with, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” This is the means by which you come out of being conformed to the world. Paul also says in 1 Corinthians 5, “I wrote you in my letter not to associate with immoral people;  I did not at all mean with the immoral people of this world, or with the covetous and swindlers, or with idolaters, for then you would have to go out of the world.” As one commentator said, we are in the world (our point of location) but should not be of the world (our source of information).

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

“I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.”– Philippians 3:8

Spiritual knowledge of Christ will be a personal knowledge. I cannot know Jesus through another person’s acquaintance with him. No, I must know him myself; I must know him on my own account.

It will be an intelligent knowledge–I must know him, not as a creative thinker dreams of him, but as the Word reveals him. I must know his natures, both divine and human. I must know his offices–his attributes–his works–his shame–his glory. I must meditate upon him until I “comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth,  and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge.”

It will be an affectionate knowledge of him; indeed, if I know him at all, I must love him. An ounce of heart knowledge is worth a ton of head learning.

Our knowledge of him will be a satisfying knowledge. When I know my Savior, my mind will be full to the brim–I shall feel that I have that which my spirit longed after. “This is that bread, that if a man eat he shall never hunger.”

At the same time, it will be an exciting knowledge; the more I know of my Beloved, the more I shall want to know. The higher I climb the loftier will be the summits which invite my eager footsteps. I shall want even more as I get even more. Like the miser’s treasure, my gold will make me covet even more.

To conclude; this knowledge of Christ Jesus will be a most happy one; in fact, so elevating, that sometimes it will completely bear me up above all trials, and doubts, and sorrows; and it will, while I enjoy it, make me something more than “Man, who is born of woman, short-lived and full of turmoil;” for it will fling about me as a cloak the immortality of the ever living Savior, and compass me with the golden belt of his eternal joy. Come, my soul, sit at Jesus’s feet and learn of him all this day.

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

“For love is as strong as death.” — Song of Solomon 8:6

Whose love can this be which is as mighty as the conqueror of monarchs, the destroyer of the human race? Would it not sound like satire if it were applied to my poor, weak, and scarcely living love to Jesus my Lord? I do love him, and perhaps by his grace, I could even die for him, but as for my love in itself, it can scarcely endure a scoffing jest, much less a cruel death. Surely it is my Beloved’s love which is here spoken of–the love of Jesus, the matchless lover of souls. His love was indeed stronger than the most terrible death, for it endured the trial of the cross triumphantly. It was a lingering death, but love survived the torment; a shameful death, but love despised the shame; a punishing death, but love bore our iniquities; a forsaken, lonely death, from which the eternal Father hid his face, but love endured the curse, glorious over all. Never was there such love, never such a death. It was a desperate duel, but love won the victory. What is your response then, my heart? Have you no emotions excited within at the contemplation of such heavenly affection? Yes, my Lord, I long, I crave to feel your love flaming like a furnace within me. I invite you to come excite the passion of my spirit.

“For every drop of crimson blood

Thus shed to make me live,

O wherefore, wherefore have not I

A thousand lives to give?”

Why should I lose hope of loving Jesus with a love as strong as death? He deserves it: I desire it. The martyrs felt such love, and they were but flesh and blood, then why not I? They bemoaned their weakness, and yet out of weakness were made strong. Grace gave them all their unflinching endurance–there is the same grace for me. Jesus, lover of my soul, shed abroad such love, even your love in my heart, this evening.