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

“The breaker goes come up before them.” —  Micah 2:13

Since Jesus has gone before us, things aren’t the same as they would have been had he never passed that way. He has conquered every foe that obstructed the way. Cheer up now, fearful warrior. Not only has Christ travelled the road, but he has slain your enemies. Do you dread sin? He has nailed it to his cross. Do you fear death? He has been the death of Death. Are you afraid of hell? He has barred it against the arrival of any of his children; they shall never see the gulf of the inferno. Whatever adversaries may be before the Christian, they are all overcome. There are lions, but their teeth are broken; there are serpents, but their fangs are extracted; there are rivers, but they are bridged or fordable; there are flames, but we wear that matchless garment which renders us invulnerable to fire. The sword that has been forged against us is already blunted; the instruments of war which the enemy is preparing have already lost their force. God has taken away in the person of Christ all the power that anything can have to hurt us. All is well then, the army may safely march on, and you may go joyously along your journey, for all your enemies are conquered beforehand. What shall you do but march on to take the prey? They are beaten, they are vanquished; all you must do is to divide the spoil. You shall — it is true — often engage in combat; but your fight shall be with a vanquished foe. His head is broken; he may attempt to injure you, but his strength shall not be sufficient for his malicious strategy. Your victory shall be easy, and your treasure shall be beyond all estimation.

“Proclaim aloud the Savior’s fame,

Who bears the Breaker’s wondrous name;

Sweet name; and it becomes him well,

Who breaks down earth, sin, death, and hell.”

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

“That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith.” — Ephesians 3:17

It is desirable beyond measure that we, as believers, should have the person of Jesus constantly before us, to fuel our love towards him, and to increase our knowledge of him. I would to God that my readers were all entered as diligent scholars in Jesus’ college, students of “Corpus Christi”, or the body of Christ, resolved to attain a good degree in the learning of the cross. But to have Jesus ever near, the heart must be full of him, welling up with his love, even to overflowing; therefore, the apostle prays “that Christ may dwell in your hearts.” See how near he desires Jesus to be! You cannot get a subject closer to you than to have it in the heart itself. “That he may dwell;” not that he may call upon you sometimes, as a casual visitor enters into a house and remains for a night, but that he may dwell; that Jesus may become the Lord and Tenant of your inmost being, never again to leave.

Observe the words–that he may dwell in your heart, that best room of the human house; not in your thoughts alone, but in your affections; not merely in the mind’s meditations, but in the heart’s emotions. We should thirst after a love of Christ that is of the highest and most abiding character; not a love that flames up and then dies out into the darkness of a few embers, but a constant flame, fed by holy fuel, like the fire upon the altar which never went out. This cannot be accomplished except by faith. Faith must be strong, or love will not be fervent; the root of the flower must be healthy, or we cannot expect the bloom to be beautiful. Faith is the lily’s root, and love is the lily’s bloom. Now, reader, Jesus cannot be in your heart’s love except you have a firm hold of him by your heart’s faith; and, therefore, pray that you may always trust Christ in order that you may always love him. If your love is cold, you can be sure that your faith is drooping.

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

“And there will no longer be heard in her, the voice of weeping and the sound of crying.” — Isaiah 65:19

Those who have died and are glorified weep no more, for all outward causes of grief are gone. There are no broken friendships, nor shattered prospects in heaven. Poverty, famine, peril, persecution, and slander are unknown there. No pain afflicts, no thought of death or bereavement saddens. They weep no more, for they are perfectly sanctified. No “evil heart of unbelief” prompts them to depart from the living God; they are faultless before his throne, and are fully conformed to his image. Those will cease to mourn who have ceased to sin. They weep no more, because all fear of change is past. They know that they are eternally secure. Sin is shut out, and they are shut in. They dwell within a city which shall never be attacked; they bask in a sun which shall never set; they drink of a river which shall never dry; they pluck fruit from a tree which shall never wither. Countless cycles may revolve, but eternity shall not be exhausted, and while eternity endures, their immortality and happiness shall co-exist with it. They are forever with the Lord. They weep no more, because every desire is fulfilled. They cannot wish for anything which they do not have in possession. Eye and ear, heart and hand, judgment, imagination, hope, desire, will, all the faculties, are completely satisfied; and imperfect as our present ideas are of the things which God has prepared for them that love him, yet we know enough, by the revelation of the Spirit, that the saints above are supremely blessed. The joy of Christ, which is an infinite fullness of delight, is in them. They bathe themselves in the bottomless, shoreless sea of infinite joy and blessing. That same joyful rest remains for us. It may not be far distant. Before long the weeping willow shall be exchanged for the palm branch of victory, and sorrow’s dewdrops will be transformed into the pearls of everlasting joy. “Therefore comfort one another with these words.”

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

“The unsearchable riches of Christ.” — Ephesians 3:8

My Master has riches beyond the sum of arithmetic, the measurement of reason, the dream of imagination, or the eloquence of words. They are unsearchable! You may look, and study, and ponder, but Jesus is a greater Savior than you think him to be when your thoughts consider the greatest. My Lord is more ready to pardon than you are to sin, more able to forgive than you are to disobey. My Master is more willing to supply your needs than you are to confess them. Never tolerate little thoughts of my Lord Jesus. When you put the crown on his head, you will at best crown him with silver when he deserves gold. My Master has riches of happiness to bestow upon you now. He can make you to lie down in green pastures, and lead you beside still waters. There is no music like the music of his pipe, when he is the Shepherd and you are the sheep, and you lie down at his feet. There is no love like his; neither earth nor heaven can match it. To know Christ and to be found in him–Oh! This is life, this is joy, this is a fine steak, wine aged and well refined. My Master does not treat his servants impolitely; he gives to them as a king gives to another king.  He gives them two heavens: A heaven below in serving him here, and a heaven above in delighting in him forever. His unsearchable riches will be best known in eternity. He will give all you need on the way to heaven; your place of defense shall be the fortification of rocks, your bread shall be given you, and your waters shall be abundant; but it is there, there, where you shall hear the song of them that triumph, the shout of them that feast, and shall have a face-to-face view of the glorious and beloved One. The unsearchable riches of Christ! This is the tune for the musicians of earth, and the song for the harpers of heaven. Lord, teach us more and more of Jesus, and we will tell out the good news to others.

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

“I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that you tell him I am lovesick.” — Song of Solomon 5:8

Such is the language of the believer longing after minute-by-minute fellowship with Jesus: he is lovesick for his Lord. Grace-filled souls are never perfectly at ease except when they are in a state of nearness to Christ; for when they are away from him they lose their peace. The nearer to him, the nearer to the perfect calm of heaven; the nearer to him, the fuller the heart is, not only of peace, but of life, and vigor, and joy, for these all depend on constant communication with Jesus. What the sun is to the day, what the moon is to the night, what the dew is to the flower, such is Jesus Christ to us. What bread is to the hungry, clothing to the naked, the shadow of a great rock to the traveler in a weary land, such is Jesus Christ to us; and, therefore, if we are not consciously one with him, it comes as no surprise if our spirit cries in the words of the Song, “I charge you, O you daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, tell him that I am lovesick.” This earnest longing after Jesus has a blessing attending it: “Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness…” and therefore, supremely blessed are they who thirst after the Righteous One. Blessed is that hunger, since it comes from God: if I may not have the full-blown favor of being filled, I would seek the same favor in a hungry longing in emptiness and eagerness till I am filled with Christ. If I may not partake of Jesus, it shall be next door to heaven to hunger and thirst after him. There is a holiness about that hunger, since it sparkles among the beatitudes of our Lord. But the blessing involves a promise. Such hungry ones “shall be filled” with what they are desiring. If Christ thus causes us to long after himself, he will certainly satisfy those longings; and when he does come to us, as come he will, oh, how delightful it will be!

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

“I have not said to Jacob’s descendants, ‘Seek me in vain.” — Isaiah 45:19

We may gain much encouragement by considering what God has not said. What he has said is indescribably full of comfort and delight; what he has not said is scarcely less rich in consolation. It was one of these “said nots” which preserved the kingdom of Israel in the days of Jeroboam the son of Joash, for “the Lord said not that he would blot out the name of Israel from under heaven.” (2 Kings 14:27). In our text we have an assurance that God will answer prayer, because he has “not said to Jacob’s descendants, ‘Seek me in vain.'” You who adopt bitter attitudes against yourselves should remember that — despite what your doubts and fears say — if God has not cut you off from mercy, there is no room for despair. Even the voice of conscience is of little importance if it’s not seconded by the voice of God. What God has said, tremble at! But don’t allow your useless imagination to overwhelm you with despondency and sinful despair. Many fearful persons have been vexed by the suspicion that there may be something in God’s judgment which shuts them out from hope, but here is a complete refutation to that troublesome fear, for no true seeker can be judged to condemnation. “I have not spoken in secret, in a dark place of the earth; I have not said,” even in the secret of my unsearchable determinations, “Seek me in vain.” God has clearly revealed that he will hear the prayer of those who call upon him, and that declaration cannot be contravened. He has so firmly, so truthfully, so righteously spoken, that there can be no room for doubt. He does not reveal his mind in unintelligible words, but he speaks plainly and positively, “Ask, and you shall receive.” Believe this sure truth, that prayer must and shall be heard, Oh, fearful one, and remember that never, even in the secrets of eternity, has the Lord said to any living soul, “Seek me in vain.”

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

“He who waters will himself be watered.” — Proverbs 11:25

We are here taught the great lesson, that to get, we must give; that to accumulate, we must distribute; that to make ourselves happy, we must make others happy; and that in order to become spiritually dynamic, we must seek the spiritual good of others. In watering others, we are ourselves watered. How? Our efforts to be useful bring out our abilities for usefulness. We have latent talents and dormant faculties, which are brought to light by exercise. Our strength for labor is hidden even from ourselves, until we venture forth to fight the Lord’s battles, or to climb the mountains of difficulty. We do not know what caring sympathies we possess until we try to dry the widow’s tears, and soothe the orphan’s grief. We often find in attempting to teach others, that we gain instruction for ourselves.

Oh, what gracious lessons some of us have learned at sick beds! We went to teach the Scriptures, we came away embarrassed that we knew so little of them. In our conversations with afflicted saints, we are taught the way of God more perfectly for ourselves and get a deeper insight into divine truth. We see that watering others makes us humble. We discover how much grace there is where we had not looked for it; and how much the destitute saint may outstrip us in knowledge. Our own comfort is also increased by our working for others. We endeavor to cheer them, and the consolation gladdens our own heart. It is like the two men trapped in the snow; one massaged the other’s limbs to keep him from dying, and in so doing kept his own blood in circulation, and saved his own life. The poor widow of Zarephath gave from her sparse store a supply for the prophet’s needs, and from that day she never again knew what want was. Give then, and it shall be given to you, good measure, pressed down, and running over.

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

“And they fortified Jerusalem as far as the Broad Wall.” — Nehemiah 3:8

Well-fortified cities have broad walls, and so also did Jerusalem in her glory. The New Jerusalem must, in the same manner, be surrounded and preserved by a broad wall of nonconformity to the world, and separation from its customs and attitude. These days tend to break down the holy barrier, and make the distinction between the church and the world merely nominal. Professing believers are no longer disciplined and moral, questionable literature is read all around, trivial and shallow pastimes are often indulged, and a general negligence threatens to deprive the Lord’s special people of the sacred distinctiveness which separates them from sinners. It will be a sad day for the church and the world when such a consolidation shall be complete, and the sons of God and the daughters of men shall be as one: then shall another deluge of wrath be ushered in. Beloved reader, make it your aim in heart, in word, in dress, in action to maintain the broad wall, remembering that the friendship of this world is hostility against God.

The broad wall allowed a pleasant place of respite for the inhabitants of Jerusalem, from which they could command panoramas of the surrounding country. This reminds us of the Lord’s exceedingly broad commandments, in which we walk at liberty in communion with Jesus, overlooking the scenes of earth, and looking out towards the glories of heaven. Even while we are separated from the world, and denying ourselves all ungodliness and sensuous lusts, nevertheless we are not in prison, nor restricted within narrow constraints; indeed, we walk at liberty, because we keep his teachings. Come, reader, this evening walk with God in reading his statutes. As friend met friend upon the city wall, so meet your God in the way of holy prayer and meditation. You have a right to travel the ramparts of salvation, for you are a freed man of the royal city, a citizen of the metropolis of the universe.

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

“The sweet psalmist of Israel.” — 2 Samuel 23:1

Among all the saints whose lives are recorded in Holy Bible, David possesses an experience of the most striking, varied, and instructive character. In his history we meet with trials and temptations not to be discovered, as a whole, in other saints of ancient times, and consequently he is all the more suggestive a picture of our Lord. David knew the trials of all positions and conditions of men. Kings have their troubles, and David wore a crown: the peasant has his cares, and David handled a shepherd’s staff: the wanderer has many hardships, and David abode in the caves of Engedi: the leader has his difficulties, and David found the sons of Zeruiah too difficult for him. The psalmist was also exasperated in his friends; his counsellor Ahithophel forsook him, “He that eats bread with me, has lifted up his heel against me.” His worst foes were those of his own household; his children were his greatest affliction. The temptations of poverty and wealth, of honor and reproach, of health and weakness, all tried their power upon him. He had temptations from outside to disturb his peace, and from inside to mar his joy. David no sooner escaped from one trial than he fell into another; no sooner emerged from one season of depression and apprehension, than he was again brought into the lowest depths, and all God’s waves and breakers rolled over him. It is probably from this cause that David’s psalms are so universally the delight of experienced Christians. Whatever our frame of mind, whether elation or depression, David has exactly described our emotions. He was an able master of the human heart, because he had been tutored in the best of all schools–the school of heart-felt, personal experience. As we are instructed in the same school, as we grow matured in grace and in years, we increasingly appreciate David’s psalms, and find them to be “green pastures.” My soul, let David’s experience cheer and counsel you this day.

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

“You will pull me out of the net which they have secretly laid for me, for You are my strength.” — Psalm 31:4

Our spiritual foes are part of the serpent’s offspring, and seek to ensnare us by subtlety. The psalmist’s prayer infers the possibility of the believer being caught like a bird. So deftly does the fowler do his work, that simple ones are soon surrounded by the net. The text says that even out of Satan’s meshes the captive one may be delivered; this is a appropriate appeal, and one which can be granted: from between the jaws of the lion, and out of the belly of hell, can eternal love rescue the believer. It may need a sharp pull to save a soul from the net of temptations, and a mighty pull to extricate a man from the snares of malicious cunning, but the Lord is equal to every emergency, and the most skillfully placed nets of the hunter shall never be able to hold his chosen ones. Woe unto those who are so clever at net laying; they who tempt others shall be destroyed themselves.

“For you are my strength.” What an inexpressible delight is to be found in these few words! We may joyfully encounter traps, and cheerfully endure suffering, when we can lay hold upon celestial strength. Divine power will tear apart all the traps of our enemies, confound their politics, and frustrate their unscrupulous tricks; he is a happy man who has such matchless might employed on his side. Our own strength would be of little service when hampered in the nets of evil cunning, but the Lord’s strength is ever available; we only have to invoke it, and we shall find it near at hand. If by faith we are depending alone upon the strength of the mighty God of Israel, we may use our holy reliance as a plea in supplication.

“Lord, evermore thy face we seek:

Tempted we are, and poor, and weak;

Keep us with lowly hearts, and meek.

Let us not fall. Let us not fall.”

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

“And He will arise and feed His flock in the strength of the Lord.”  —  Micah 5:4

Christ’s reign in his Church is that of a shepherd-king. He has supremacy, but it is the superiority of a wise and tender shepherd over his needy and loving flock; he commands and receives obedience, but it is the willing obedience of well-cared-for sheep, rendered joyfully to their beloved Shepherd, whose voice they know so well. He rules by the force of love and the energy of goodness.

His reign is practical in its character. It is said, “He will arise and feed his flock.” The great Head of the Church is actively engaged in providing for his people. He does not sit down upon the throne in uninvolved government, or hold a scepter without wielding it in administration. No, he stands and feeds. The expression “feed,” in the original, is like an analogous one in the Greek, which means to shepherd, to do everything expected of a shepherd: to guide, to watch, to preserve, to restore, to tend, as well as to feed.

His reign is continual in its duration. It is said, “He will arise and feed;” not “He shall feed now and then, and leave his position;” not, “He shall one day grant a revival, and then next day leave his Church to become sterile.” His eyes never slumber, and his hands never rest; his heart never ceases to beat with love, and his shoulders never weary of carrying his people’s burdens.

His reign is capably powerful in its action; “He will feed his flock in the strength of Jehovah.” Wherever Christ is, there is God; and whatever Christ does is the act of the Most High. Oh! It is a joyful truth to consider that Christ, who stands today representing the interests of his people is truly God of the true God, to whom every knee shall bow. Happy are we who belong to such a shepherd, whose humanity empathizes with us, and whose divinity protects us. Let us worship and bow down before him as the people of his pasture.

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

“And they gave him wine to drink mingled with myrrh: but he received it not.” — Matt. 27: 34,  Mark 15:23

A golden truth is contained in the fact that the Savior refused the doctored cup of wine put to his lips. On the heights of heaven the Son of God stood before time, and as he looked down upon our globe he measured the long descent to the utmost depths of human misery; he viewed the sum total of all the agonies which recompense for sin would require, and declined not a bit. He solemnly determined that to offer a sufficient atoning sacrifice he must go the whole way, from the highest to the lowest, from the throne of highest glory to the cross of deepest anguish. This drugged cup, with its tranquilizing influence, would have halted him just a little short of the utmost limit of misery; therefore, he refused it. He would not stop short of all he had undertaken to suffer for his people.

Ah, how many of us have longed for a relief to our grief which would have been detrimental to us! Reader, haven’t you prayed for a release from hard service or suffering, with a sullen and willful impatience? Perhaps Providence (the foreseeing protective care of God) has taken from you the desire of your eyes with a stroke. So, if you had been told, “If you so desire it, that loved one of yours shall live, but God will be dishonored,” could you have put away the temptation, and said, “Your will be done”? Oh, it is pleasing to be able to say, “My Lord, if for other reasons I don’t need to suffer, yet if I can honor you more by suffering, and if the loss of everything I treasure on earth will bring you glory, then so let it be. I refuse the comfort, if it gets in the way of your honor.” Oh, that we would walk more in the footsteps of our Lord, cheerfully enduring hardship for his sake, promptly and willingly putting away our concerns for ourselves and our comfort when it would interfere with our completion of the work which he has given us to do. Great grace is needed, but great grace is provided.

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

“ For aliens have entered the holy places of the Lord’s house.” — Jeremiah 51:51

In this account the faces of the Lord’s people were covered with embarrassment, for it was a terrible thing that men should intrude into the Holy Place reserved for the priests alone. Everywhere about us we see similar cause for sorrow. How many ungodly men are now going through education with the view of entering into the ministry! What a dreadful sin is that sincere lie in which nearly our whole population is nominally considered to be Christian! How appalling it is that the unconverted should have rules pressed upon them rather than conversion, and that among the more enlightened churches of our land there should be such negligence of training. If the thousands who will read this portion shall all take this matter before the Lord Jesus this day, he will intercede and avert the evil which otherwise will come upon his Church. To adulterate the Church is to pollute a well, to pour water upon fire, to sow a fertile field with stones. May we all have grace to maintain in our own proper way the purity of the Church, as being an assembly of believers, and not a nation, an unsaved community of unconverted men.

Our zeal must, however, begin at home. Let us examine ourselves as to our right to eat at the Lord’s table. Let us see to it that we have on our wedding garment, lest we ourselves be intruders in the Lord’s sanctuaries. Many are called, but few are chosen; the way is narrow, and the gate is small. Oh, for grace to come to Jesus properly, with the faith of God’s elect. He who struck Uzzah for touching the ark is very jealous of these two regulations; as a true believer I may approach them freely, as an alien I must not touch them lest I die. Heart searching is the duty of all who are baptized or come to the Lord’s table. “Search me, O God, and know my way, try me and know my heart.”

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

“This sickness is not unto death.” — John 11:4

From our Lord’s words we learn that there is a limit to sickness. Here is an “unto” within which its ultimate end is restrained, and beyond which it cannot go. Lazarus might pass through death, but death was not to be the ultimate end of his sickness. In all sickness, the Lord says to the waves of pain, “This far you may go, but no farther.” His fixed purpose is not the destruction, but the instruction of his people. Wisdom hangs up the thermometer at the furnace mouth, and regulates the heat.

1. The limit is encouragingly comprehensive. The God of providence has limited the time, manner, intensity, repetition, and effects of all our sicknesses; each ache is decreed, each sleepless hour predestinated, each relapse ordained, each depression of spirit foreknown, and each sanctifying result eternally purposed. Nothing great or small escapes the ordaining hand of him who numbers the hairs of our head.
2. This limit is wisely adjusted to our strength, to the end designed, and to the grace apportioned. Affliction doesn’t come  haphazardly–the weight of every stroke of the rod is accurately measured. He who made no mistakes in balancing the clouds and meting out the heavens, commits no errors in measuring out the ingredients which compose the medicine of souls. We cannot suffer too much nor be relieved too late.
3. The limit is tenderly appointed. The knife of the heavenly Surgeon never cuts deeper than is absolutely necessary. “He does not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men.” A mother’s heart cries, “Spare my child;” but no mother is more compassionate than our gracious God. When we consider how we resist the reins, it is a wonder that we are not driven with a sharper bit. The thought is full of comfort, that he who has fixed the bounds of our habitation, has also fixed the bounds of our tribulation.

My notes:  Spurgeon is not speaking as a Job’s comforter, he is speaking from experience.  He was plagued with gout, as painful and disabling a disease as any, often to the point of being bedridden for weeks, and eventually succumbed to the disease.  Some may find it interesting that Spurgeon attributes affliction to God, and indeed, doesn’t even address any other possibility…

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

“The mercy of God.” —  Psalm 52:8

Meditate a little on this mercy of the Lord. It is tender mercy. With a gentle, loving touch, he heals the broken in heart, and binds up their wounds. He is as gracious in the manner of his mercy as in the matter of it.

It is great mercy. There is nothing little in God; his mercy is like himself–it is infinite. You cannot measure it. His mercy is so great that it forgives great sins by great sinners, after great lengths of time, and then gives great favors and great privileges, and raises us up to great enjoyments in the great heaven of the great God.

It is undeserved mercy, as indeed all true mercy must be, for deserved mercy is only justice misnamed. There was no right on the sinner’s part to the kind consideration of the Most High; had the rebel been doomed at once to eternal fire he would have richly merited the doom, and if delivered from wrath, sovereign love alone has found a cause, for there was none in the sinner himself.

It is luxuriant mercy. Some things are great, but have little efficacy in them, but this mercy is comforting medicine to your drooping spirits; a golden ointment to your bleeding wounds; a heavenly bandage to your broken bones; a royal chariot for your weary feet; an embrace of love for your trembling heart.

It is multiplied mercy. As Bunyan says, “All the flowers in God’s garden are double.” There is no single mercy. You may think you have but one mercy, but you shall find it to be a whole collection of mercies. It is limitless mercy. Millions have received it, yet far from its being exhausted, it is as fresh, as full, and as free as ever.

It is unfailing mercy. It will never leave you. If mercy is your friend, mercy will be with you in temptation to keep you from yielding; with you in trouble to prevent you from sinking; with you in life to be the light and energy of your countenance; and with you when dying to be the joy of your soul when earthly comfort is ebbing fast.

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

“We ourselves, having the first fruits of the Spirit…” —  Romans 8:23

Paul declares our present possession of the Spirit. At this present moment, we have the first fruits of the Spirit. We have repentance, that gem of the new birth; faith, that priceless pearl; hope, the heavenly emerald; and love, the glorious ruby. We are already made “new creatures in Christ Jesus,” by the effective working of God the Holy Spirit. This is called the first fruit because it comes first. As the wave-sheaf offering was the first of the harvest, so the spiritual life, and all the graces which adorn that life, are the first operations of the Spirit of God in our souls. The first fruits were the promise of the harvest. As soon as the Israelite had plucked the first handful of ripe grain, he looked forward with glad anticipation to the time when the wagon should creak beneath the sheaves. So, brethren, when God gives us things which are pure, lovely, and of good report, as the work of the Holy Spirit, these are to us the indicator of the coming glory. The first fruits were always holy to the Lord, and our new nature, with all its powers, is a consecrated thing. The new life is not ours that we should attribute its excellence to our own merit; it is Christ’s image and creation, and is ordained for his glory. But the first fruits were not the harvest, and the works of the Spirit in us at this moment are not the completion–the perfection is yet to come. We must not boast that we have attained, and so imagine the wave offering to be all the produce of the year: we must hunger and thirst after righteousness, and long for the day of full redemption. Dear reader, this evening open your mouth wide, and God will fill it. Let the benefit of present possession of the Spirit excite in you a sacred coveting for more grace. Sigh within yourself for higher degrees of dedication, and your Lord will grant them to you, for he is able to do exceeding abundantly above what we ask or even think.

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

“Ascribe to the Lord the glory due to His name.” — Psalm 29:2

God’s glory is the result of his nature and acts. He is glorious in his character, for there is such a supply of everything that is holy, and good, and lovely in God, that he must be glorious. The actions which flow from his character are also glorious; but while he intends that they should demonstrate to his creatures his goodness, and mercy, and justice, he is equally concerned that the glory associated with them should be given only to himself. Nor is there anything at all in ourselves in which we may glory; for who makes us different from another? And what do we have that we did not receive from the God of all grace? Then how carefully we ought to walk, humbly before the Lord! The moment we glorify ourselves, since there is only room for one worthy of glory in the universe, we set ourselves up as rivals to the Most High. Shall the insect of an hour’s life glorify itself against the sun which warmed it into life? Shall a shard of pottery exalt itself above the man who fashioned it upon the wheel? Shall the dust of the desert strive with the whirlwind? Or the drops of the ocean struggle with the cyclone? Give to the Lord, all you righteous, give to the Lord glory and strength; give unto him the honor that is due his name. Yet it is, perhaps, one of the hardest struggles of the Christian life to learn this sentence–“Not unto us, not unto us, but unto your name be glory.” It is a lesson which God is ever teaching us, and teaching us sometimes by most painful discipline. Let a Christian begin to boast, “I can do all things,” without adding “through Christ which strengthens me,” and before long he will have to whimper, “I can do nothing,” and lament his state in the dust. When we do anything for the Lord, and he is pleased to accept our works, let us lay our crown at his feet, and exclaim, “Not I, but the grace of God which was with me!”

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

“I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.” — Ezekiel 36:26

A heart of flesh is known by its tenderness concerning sin. To have indulged a vulgar thought, or to have allowed a wild desire to remain even for a moment, is quite enough to make a heart of flesh grieve before the Lord. The heart of stone declares a great immorality to be inconsequential — not so the heart of flesh.

“If to the right or left I stray,

That moment, Lord, reprove;

And let me weep my life away,

For having grieved thy love”

The heart of flesh is tender to God’s will. My stubborn self-will is a great braggard, and it is hard to subject him to God’s will; but when the heart of flesh is given, the will quivers like an aspen leaf in every breath of heaven, and bows like a willow in every breeze of God’s Spirit. The natural will is cold, hard iron, which refuses to be hammered into form, but the renewed will, like molten metal, is soon molded by the hand of grace. In the heart of flesh there is tender affection. The hard heart does not love the Redeemer, but the renewed heart burns with affection towards him. The hard heart is selfish and coldly demands, “Why should I weep for sin? Why should I love the Lord?” But the heart of flesh says; “Lord, you know that I love you; help me to love you more!” There are many privileges of this renewed heart; “‘It is here the Spirit dwells, it is here that Jesus rests.” It is tailored to receive every spiritual blessing, and every blessing comes to it. It is prepared to yield every heavenly fruit to the honor and praise of God, and therefore the Lord delights in it. A tender heart is the best defense against sin, and the best preparation for heaven. A renewed heart stands on its watchtower looking for the coming of the Lord Jesus. Have you this heart of flesh?

My notes:  Spurgeon says, “My Lord Will-be-will is a great blusterer.” Since Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress is not as commonly read and referenced today as in Spurgeon’s day, I have rendered this “My stubborn self-will is a great braggard.”  “Foul imagination” I have rendered “vulgar thought,” “Osier” is a European willow and I have used “willow” in its place. “In the fleshy heart there is a tenderness of the affections” I have simplified to “In the heart of flesh there is tender affection.” “The heart of stone calls a great iniquity nothing” I have rendered as “The heart of stone declares a great immorality to be inconsequential.” I hope these edits clarify Spurgeon and in no way degrade his message.

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

“Isaac went out to meditate in the field toward evening.” — Genesis 24:63

Issac is to be admired for his activity.  If those who spend so many hours in idle company, light reading, and useless pastimes could learn wisdom, they would find more profitable associations and more interesting engagements in meditation than in the narcissism which now has such attractions for them. We should all know more, live nearer to God, and grow in grace, if we spent  more time alone. Meditation chews the cud and extracts the real nutriment from the mental food gathered elsewhere. When Jesus is the theme, meditation is sweet indeed. Isaac found Rebecca while engaged in private reflections; many others have found their best beloved there.

Also admirable was the choice of place. In the field, we have a landscape hung all about with texts for thought. From the cedar to the herbs, from the soaring eagle down to the chirping grasshopper, from the blue expanse of heaven to a drop of dew, all things are full of teaching, and when the eye is spiritually opened, that teaching flashes upon the mind far more vividly than from written books. Our little rooms are not nearly so healthy, so suggestive, so agreeable, or so inspiring as the fields. Let us count nothing common or unclean, but we feel that all created things point to their Maker, and the field is a holy place.

Very admirable was the season of the day. The season of sunset as it draws a veil over the day, is fitting that tranquility of the soul when earthborn cares yield to the joys of heavenly communion. The glory of the setting sun excites our wonder, and the solemnity of approaching night awakens our awe. If the business of this day will permit it, it will be well, dear reader, if you can spare an hour to walk in the field in the evening, but if not, the Lord is in the town too, and will meet with you in your room or in the crowded street. Let your heart go forth to meet him.

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

“I am aware of their sufferings.” — Exodus 3:7

The child cheers up as he sings, “This my father knows;” so shall not we be comforted as we perceive that our dear Friend and the tender husband of our soul knows all about us?

1. He is the Physician, and if he knows all, there is no need that the patient should know. Hush, my nervous, trembling heart, which worries about all things great and trivial! What you do not know now, you shall know later, and meanwhile Jesus, the beloved Physician, knows your soul is in hardships. Why does the patient need to analyze all the medicine, or evaluate all the symptoms? This is the Physician’s work, not mine; it is my business to trust, and his to prescribe. If he shall write his prescription in illegible characters which I cannot read, I will not be uneasy on that account, but rely upon his unfailing skill to make everything clear in the end, however mysterious the process.
2. He is the Master, and has sufficient knowledge to guide us outside of our knowing; we are to obey, not to judge: “The slave does not understand what his master is doing.” Shall the architect explain his plans to every carpenter on the project? If he knows his own intent, is it not enough? The vessel on the potter’s wheel cannot guess the plans of the Master as to the shape of the pattern it shall receive, but if the potter understands his art, what matters the ignorance of the clay? My Lord must not be cross-examined, and certainly not by one so ignorant as I am.
3. He is the Head. All understanding centers there. What ability to judge has the arm? What comprehension has the foot? All the power to know lies in the head. Why should a limb have a brain of its own when the head fulfills for it every intellectual function? Here, then, must the believer place his comfort in sickness, not that he himself can see the end, but that Jesus knows all. Sweet Lord, be the eye, and heart, and head for us forever, and let us be content to know only what you choose to reveal.

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

“For You, O Lord, have made me glad by what You have done.” — Psalm 92:4

Do you believe that your sins are forgiven, and that Christ has made full atonement for them? Then what a joyful Christian you ought to be! Then you should live above the common trials and troubles of the world! Since sin is forgiven, can it matter what happens to you now? Luther said, “You can strike me, Lord, strike me if you choose, for my sin is forgiven; if you have forgiven me, strike as hard as you will;” and in a similar spirit you may say, “If you choose, send sickness, poverty, losses, crosses, persecution, what you will, you have forgiven me, and my soul is glad.” Christian, if you are indeed saved, while you are glad, be also grateful and loving. Cling to that cross which took your sin away; you serve him who served you. “Therefore I urge you, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship.” Don’t let your zeal evaporate in some little outburst of song. Show your love in expressive demonstrations. Love the brethren of him who loved you. If there one like Mephibosheth anywhere who is lame or disabled, help him for Jonathan’s sake. If there be a poor burdened believer, weep with him, and bear his cross for the sake of him who wept for you and carried your sins. Since you are in this way forgiven freely for Christ’s sake, go and tell others the joyful news of forgiving mercy. Don’t be contented with this incredible blessing for you alone, but publish abroad the story of the cross. Holy gladness and holy boldness will make you a good preacher, and all the world will be a pulpit for you to preach in. Cheerful holiness is the most persuasive of sermons, but the Lord must give it you. Seek it this morning before you go into the world. When it is the Lord’s work in which we rejoice, we don’t need to be afraid of being too glad.

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

“And I will remember my covenant.” — Genesis 9:15

Note carefully the form of the promise. God does not say, “And when you shall look upon the rainbow, and you shall remember my covenant, then I will not destroy the earth,” but it is gloriously put, not upon our memory, which is fallible and feeble, but upon God’s memory, which is infinite and immutable. “The bow shall be in the cloud; and I will look upon it, that I may remember the everlasting covenant.” Oh! It is not my remembering God, it is God’s remembering me which is the ground of my safety; it is not my laying hold of his covenant, but his covenant’s laying hold on me. Glory be to God! The whole of the fortifications of salvation are secured by divine power, and even the outlying towers, which we may imagine might have been left to man, are guarded by almighty strength. Even the reminder of the covenant is not left to our memories, for we might forget, but our Lord cannot forget the saints whom he has engraved on the palms of his hands. It is with us just as with Israel in Egypt; the blood was upon the lintel and the two doorposts, but the Lord did not say, “When you see the blood I will pass over you,” but “When I see the blood I will pass over you.” My looking to Jesus brings me joy and peace, but it is God’s looking to Jesus which secures my salvation and that of all his elect, since it is impossible for our God to look at Christ, our bleeding savior who has secured our place, and then to be angry with us for sins already punished in him. No, it is not left with us even to be saved by remembering the covenant. There is no cheap covering here, no mix of wool and flax–not a single thread of the creature mars the fabric. It is not of man, neither by man, but of the Lord alone. We should remember the covenant, and we shall do it, through divine grace; but the hinge of our safety does not hang there–it is God’s remembering us, not our remembering him; and henceforth the covenant is an everlasting covenant.

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

“The cedars of Lebanon which He planted.” — Psalm 104:16

Lebanon’s cedars are symbolic of the Christian, in that they owe their planting entirely to the Lord. This is quite true of every child of God. He is not planted by man, nor by himself, but planted by God. The mysterious hand of the divine Spirit dropped the living seed into a heart which he had himself prepared for its reception. Every true heir of heaven regards the great Husbandman as his planter. Moreover, the cedars of Lebanon are not dependent upon man for their watering; they stand on the lofty rock, untouched by human irrigation; and yet our heavenly Father supplies them. And so it is with the Christian who has learned to live by faith. He is independent of man, even in the things of this world; for his continued preservation he looks to the Lord his God, and to him alone. The dew of heaven is his sustenance, and the God of heaven is his fountain. Again, the cedars of Lebanon are not protected by any mortal power. They owe nothing to man for their preservation from stormy wind and cyclone. They are God’s trees, possessed and preserved by him, and by him alone. It is precisely the same with the Christian. He is not a greenhouse plant, sheltered from temptation; he stands in the most exposed position; he has no shelter, no protection, except this, that the broad wings of the eternal God always cover the cedars which he himself has planted. Like cedars, believers are full of sap, having enough vitality to be ever green, even amid winter’s snows. Lastly, the flourishing and majestic condition of the cedar is to the praise of God only. The Lord, even the Lord alone has been everything to the cedars, and, therefore David very sweetly puts it in one of the psalms, “Praise the LORD from the earth, mountains and all hills; fruit trees and all cedars.” In the believer there is nothing that can magnify man; he is planted, nourished, and protected by the Lord’s own hand, and to him let all the glory be ascribed.

Evening, August 12, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“The bow will be seen in the cloud.” — Genesis 9:14

The rainbow, the symbol of the covenant with Noah, is a picture of our Lord Jesus, who is the Lord’s confirmation to his people. When may we expect to see the symbol of the covenant? The rainbow is only seen painted upon a cloud. When the sinner’s conscience is dark with clouds, when he remembers his past sin, and grieves and cries out before God, Jesus Christ is revealed to him as the covenant Rainbow, displaying all the glorious hues of the divine character and portending peace. To the believer, when his trials and temptations surround him, it is pleasing to envision the person of our Lord Jesus Christ–to see him bleeding, living, rising, and entreating for us. God’s rainbow is hung over the cloud of our sins, our sorrows, and our afflictions, to prophesy deliverance.

A cloud alone does not give a rainbow, there must be the crystal drops to reflect the light of the sun. So, our sorrows must not only threaten, but they must really fall upon us. There was no need of Christ for us if the vengeance of God had been merely a threatening cloud; punishment must fall in terrible drops, upon the One who secured us by taking our place. Until there is real anguish in the sinner’s conscience, Christ is not there for him; until the punishment which he feels becomes grievous, he cannot see Jesus. But there must also be a sun; for clouds and drops of rain do not make rainbows unless the sun shines. Beloved, our God, who is as the sun to us, always shines, but we do not always see him–clouds hide his face; but no matter what drops may be falling, or what clouds may be threatening, if only he shines there will be a rainbow at once. It is said that when we see the rainbow the shower is over. It is certain that when Christ comes, our troubles fall away; when we behold Jesus, our sins vanish, and our doubts and fears subside. When Jesus walks the waters of the sea, how overwhelming the calm!

Morning, August 12, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“The LORD reigns, let the earth rejoice.” — Psalm 97:1

There are no causes for uneasiness or anxiety so long as this happy sentence is true. On earth, the Lord’s power controls the rage of the wicked as readily as the rage of the sea; his love as easily refreshes the poor with mercy as the earth with showers. Majesty gleams in flashes of fire amid the cyclone’s terror, and the glory of the Lord is seen in its grandeur in the fall of empires, and the collapse of thrones. In all our conflicts and tribulations, we may observe the hand of the divine King.

“God is God; he sees and hears

All our troubles, all our tears.

Soul, forget not, ‘mid thy pains,

God o’er all forever reigns.”

In hell, evil spirits acknowledge–with misery–his absolute supremacy. When permitted to roam abroad, it is with a chain to their ankle; the bit is in the mouth of the Behemoth, and the hook in the jaws of Leviathan. Death’s darts are locked in the Lord’s armory, and the grave’s prisons have divine power as their warden. The terrible vengeance of the Judge of all the earth makes cruel demons cower down and tremble, even as dogs in the kennel fear the hunter’s whip.

“Fear not death, nor Satan’s thrusts,

God defends who in him trusts;

Soul, remember, in thy pains,

God o’er all forever reigns.”

In heaven, none doubt the sovereignty of the Eternal King, but all fall on their faces to show him honor. Angels are his attendants, the redeemed his favorites, and all delight to serve him day and night. May we soon reach the city of the great King!

“For this life’s long night of sadness

He will give us peace and gladness.

Soul, remember, in thy pains,

God o’er all forever reigns.”

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

“Eternal comfort” — 2 Thessalonians 2:16

“Comfort.” There is music in the word: like David’s harp, it charms away the evil spirit of depression. It was a distinguished honor to Barnabas to be called “the son of comfort;” indeed, it is one of the illustrious names of one greater than Barnabas, for the Lord Jesus is “the comfort of Israel.” “Eternal Comfort”–here is the cream of all, for the eternity of comfort is the crown and glory of it. What is this ” Eternal Comfort?” It includes a sense of pardoned sin. A Christian man has received in his heart the witness of the Spirit that his iniquities are dispersed like a cloud, and his transgressions dissolved like a thick cloud. If sin is pardoned, is not that an eternal comfort? Next, the Lord gives his people an abiding sense of acceptance in Christ. The Christian knows that God looks upon him as standing in union with Jesus. Union to the risen Lord is a comfort of the most enduring order; it is, in fact, eternal. Let sickness confine us to bed, have we not seen hundreds of believers as happy in the weakness of disease as they would have been in the strength of robust and thriving health? Let death’s arrows pierce us to the heart, our comfort does not die, for haven’t our ears often heard the songs of saints as they have rejoiced because the living love of God was shed abroad in their hearts in dying moments? Yes, a sense of acceptance in the Beloved is an everlasting comfort. Moreover, the Christian has a conviction of his security. God has promised to save those who trust in Christ: the Christian does trust in Christ, and he believes that God will be as good as his word, and will save him. He feels that he is safe by virtue of his being bound together with the person and work of Jesus.

My notes:  Spurgeon is using the King James term “Consolation,” which has acquired an entirely different meaning in contemporary usage. We think of a “consolation prize,” a trinket awarded to the loser of a contest, or as comfort when someone has lost a great thing.  Thus, nearly all the current Bible translations render it “comfort,” and I have done to also here.

The Greek root for the word is the same as in the word “Comforter,” as Jesus defines the Holy Spirit. Little Kittel defines the word rendered “consolation” as “comfort,” or “encouragement.”

Since we have not received a “consolation prize,” but the greatest prize of all, the Lord Jesus, I have taken this liberty in this editing today.

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

“Oh that I were as in months gone by.” — Job 29:2

There are numbers of Christians that view the past with pleasure, , but regard the present with dissatisfaction; they look back upon the days passed in which they have felt at one with the Lord as being the sweetest and the best they have ever known, but as to the present, it is clad in a black mourning garb of gloom and dreariness. Once they lived near to Jesus, but now they feel that they have wandered from him, and they say, “Oh that I were as in months gone by!” They complain that they have lost the signs of their salvation, or that they have no longer any peace of mind, or that they have no enjoyment in worship, or that their conscience is not so tender, or that they have lost much passion for God’s exaltation. There are numerous causes of this sorrowful state of things. It may arise through a relative neglect of prayer, for a neglected time of prayer is the beginning of all spiritual decline. Or it may be the result of idolatry. The heart has been occupied with something else, more than with God; the affections have been set on the things of earth, instead of the things of heaven. A jealous God will not be content with a divided heart; he must be loved first and best. He will withdraw the sunshine of his presence from a cold, wandering heart. Or the cause may be found in self-confidence and self-righteousness. Pride is busy in the heart, and self is exalted instead of lying low at the foot of the cross. Christian, if you are not now as you “were in months past,” do not lie at rest satisfied with wishing for a return of former happiness, but go at once to seek your Master, and tell him your miserable state. Ask his grace and strength to help you to walk more closely with him; humble yourself before him, and he will lift you up, and give you opportunity yet again to enjoy the light of his face. Do not sit down to sigh and lament; while the beloved Physician lives there is hope, indeed there is a certainty of recovery for the worst cases.

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

“The Son of Man has power on earth to forgive sins.” — Matthew 9:6

Behold one of the great Physician’s mightiest skills: he has power to forgive sin! While he lived here below, before the ransom had been paid, before the blood had been literally sprinkled on the mercy-seat, he had power to forgive sin. Doesn’t he have power to do it now that he has died? What power must dwell in him who has faithfully discharged the debts of his people to the last penny! He has boundless power now that he has finished transgression and made an end of sin. If you doubt it, envision him rising from the dead! Behold him in ascending splendor raised to the right hand of God! Hear him pleading before the eternal Father, pointing to his wounds, imploring the application of the merit of his holy passion! What power to forgive is here! “He has ascended on high, and given gifts to men.” “He is exalted on high to give repentance and remission of sins.” The most crimson sins are removed by the crimson of his blood. At this moment, dear reader, whatever your sinfulness, Christ has power to pardon — power to pardon you — and millions just like you. A word will accomplish it. He has nothing more to do to win your pardon; all the atoning work is done. He can, in answer to your tears, forgive your sins today, and make you know it. He can breathe into your soul at this very moment a peace with God which passes all understanding, which shall result from the complete remission of your countless iniquities. Do you believe that? I trust you believe it. May you experience now the power of Jesus to forgive sin! Waste no time in applying to the Physician of souls, but hurry to him with words like these:

“Jesus! Master! hear my cry;

Save me, heal me with a word;

Fainting at thy feet I lie,

Thou my whisper’d cry hast heard.”

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

Christ, who is our life.” — Colossians 3:4

Paul’s marvelously rich expression indicates that Christ is the source of our life. “He has quickened those who were dead in trespasses and sins.” That same voice which brought Lazarus out of the tomb raised us to newness of life. He is now the essence of our spiritual life. It is by his life that we live; he is in us, the hope of glory, the wellspring of our actions, the central thought which moves every other thought. Christ is the sustenance of our life. What can the Christian feed upon but Jesus’ flesh and blood? “This is the bread which comes down from heaven, that a man may eat of it, and not die.” Oh, travel wearied pilgrims in this wilderness of sin, you never get a crumb to satisfy the hunger in your spirits, except you find it in him! Christ is the comfort of our life. All our true joys come from him; and in times of trouble, his presence is our consolation. There is nothing worth living for but him; and his loving kindness is better than life! Christ is the object of our life. As the ship speeds towards the port, so hastens the believer towards the haven of his Savior’s embrace. As the arrow flies to its goal, so the Christian flies towards the perfecting of his fellowship with Christ Jesus. As the soldier fights for his captain, and is crowned in his captain’s victory, so the believer contends for Christ, and gets his triumph out of the triumphs of his Master. “For him to live is Christ.” Christ is the ideal model of our life. Where there is the same life within, there will — there must be — to a great extent — the same developments without; and if we live in close fellowship with the Lord Jesus we shall grow like him. We shall set him before us as our Divine copy, and we shall seek to step in his footsteps, until he shall become the crown of our life in glory. Oh! how safe, how honored, how happy is the Christian, since Christ is our life!

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

“He appeared first to Mary Magdalene, from whom he had cast seven demons.” — Mark 16:9

Mary of Magdala was the victim of a terrible evil. She was possessed by not only one devil, but seven. These dreadful inmates caused much pain and corruption to the poor body in which they had found a lodging. Hers was a hopeless, horrible case. She could not help herself, and neither could benefit from any human relief. But Jesus passed that way, and unsolicited, and probably even resisted by the poor demoniac, he uttered the word of power, and Mary of Magdala became a trophy of the healing power of Jesus. All the seven demons left her — left her never to return, forcibly ejected by the Lord of all. What a blessed deliverance! What a happy change! From delirium to delight, from despair to peace, from hell to heaven! Immediately she became a constant follower of Jesus, catching his every word, following his winding steps, sharing his hard and tedious life; and in addition, she became his generous helper, first among that band of healed and grateful women who ministered to him of their wealth. When Jesus was lifted up in crucifixion, Mary remained the sharer of his shame: we find her first observing from afar, and then drawing near to the foot of the cross. She could not die on the cross with Jesus, but she stood as near it as she could, and when his holy body was taken down, she watched to see how and where it was laid. She was the faithful and watchful believer, last at the sepulcher where Jesus slept, first at the grave from where he arose. Her holy faithfulness made her favored to behold her beloved teacher, who chose to call her by her name, and to make her his messenger of good news to the fearful disciples and Peter. Thus, grace found her a maniac and made her a minister, cast out devils and caused her to behold angels, delivered her from Satan, and united her forever to the Lord Jesus. May I also be such a miracle of grace!

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

“And the city has no need of the sun or of the moon to shine on it.” — Revelation 21:23

In the better world to come, the inhabitants are independent of all creature comforts. They have no need of apparel; their white robes never wear out, neither shall they ever be stained. They need no medicine to heal diseases, “And no resident will say, “I am sick.” They need no sleep to renew their bodies–they need not rest day nor night, but without weariness praise him in his temple. They need no social relationship to obtain fulfillment, and whatever happiness they may derive from association with their equals is not essential to their joy, for their Lord’s fellowship is enough for their prime desires. They need no teachers there; they doubtless converse with one another concerning the things of God, but they do not require this for instruction; they shall all be taught of the Lord. Ours now are the beggar’s portion at the king’s gate, but they feast at the King’s table itself. Here we lean upon a friendly shoulder, but there they lean upon their Beloved and upon him alone. Here we must have the help of our companions, but there they find all they want in Christ Jesus. Here we look to the meat which perishes, and to the clothing which wears away, but there they find everything in God. We use the bucket to fetch us water from the well, but there they drink from the well spring, and put their lips down to the living water. Here the angels bring us blessings, but we shall need no messengers from heaven then. They shall need no Gabriels there to bring their love notes from God, for there they shall see him face to face. Oh! What a blessed time shall that be when we shall have climbed above every secondary need and shall rest upon the bare arm of God! What a glorious hour when God, and not his creatures; the Lord, and not his works, shall be our daily joy! Our souls shall then have attained the perfection of ecstasy.

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

“All things are possible to him that believes.” — Mark 9:23

Many professing Christians are always doubting and fearing, and they unhappily think that this is the necessary state of believers. This is a mistake, for “all things are possible to him that believes,” and it is possible for us to escalate into a state in which a doubt or a fear shall be but as a bird of passage flitting across the soul, but never lingering there. When you read of the extraordinary and gratifying spiritual union enjoyed by favored believers, you sigh and complain in the center of your heart, “Sadly, these are not for me.” Oh climber, if you have only faith, you shall yet stand upon the sunny pinnacle of the temple, for “all things are possible to him that believes.” You hear of achievements which holy men have done for Jesus; what they have enjoyed of him; how much they have been like him; how they have been able to endure great persecutions for his sake; and you say, “Ah, as for me, I am but a worm; I can never attain to this.” But there is nothing which one saint was, that you may not be. There is no elevation of grace, no attainment of spirituality, no clearness of confidence, no post of duty, which is not open to you if you have but the power to believe. Lay aside your sackcloth and ashes, and rise to the dignity of your true position; you are little in Israel because you will be so, not because there is any necessity for it. It is not proper that thou should grovel in the dust, Oh child of a King. Ascend! The golden throne of transcendent reality is waiting for you! The crown of communion with Jesus is ready to adorn your forehead. Wrap yourself in scarlet and fine linen, and dine lavishly every day; for if you believe, you may eat the best of the wheat; your land shall flow with milk and honey, and you soul shall be satisfied as with a delicious rib steak. Gather golden bundles of grace, for they await you in the fields of faith. “All things are possible to him that believes.”

My notes: Spurgeon uses the term “assurance,” which I have rendered here in one instance, “confidence,” but in another, “transcendent reality” which is the way Little Kittel (The Greek dictionary of note) defines. In that sense, Hebrews 11:1 would read “Faith is the transcendent reality of things hoped for…” 

It should be noted that the second part of the verse in Mark is, “I do believe; help my unbelief.” So also I pray…

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

“They weave the spider’s web.” — Isaiah 59:5

View the spider’s web, and observe in it a most illustrative picture of the deceiver’s religion. It is meant to catch his prey: the spider fattens himself on flies, and the Pharisee has his reward. Foolish persons are easily entrapped by the loud declarations of pretenders, and even the more cautious cannot always escape. Philip baptized Simon Magus, whose cunning declaration of faith was so soon shattered by the stern rebuke of Peter. Tradition, reputation, praise, advancement, and other flies, are the small game which hypocrites take in their nets. A spider’s web is a marvel of skill: look at it and admire the cunning hunter’s tricks. Is not a deceiver’s religion equally wonderful? How does he make so brazen a lie appear to be a truth? How can he make his tinsel answer so well the objective of gold? A spider’s web all comes from the creature’s own bowels. The bee gathers her wax from flowers; the spider sucks no flowers, and yet she spins out her material to any length. Even so hypocrites find their trust and hope within themselves; their anchor was forged on their own anvil, and their rope twisted by their own hands. They lay their own foundation, and carve out the pillars of their own house, disdaining to be in debt to the sovereign grace of God. But a spider’s web is very frail. It is remarkably formed, but not manufactured to endure. It is no match for the servant’s broom, or the traveler’s staff. The hypocrite needs no battery of Armstrong cannons to blow his hope to pieces, a mere puff of wind will do it. Hypocritical cobwebs will soon come down when the cleansing broom of destruction begins its purifying work. Which reminds us of one more thought, namely that such cobwebs are not to be endured in the Lord’s house.  He will see to it that they and those who spin them shall be destroyed forever. Oh, my soul, be resting on something better than a spider’s web. Let the Lord Jesus be your eternal hiding place.

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

“Satan hindered us.” — 1 Thessalonians 2:18

Since the first hour in which goodness came into conflict with evil, in spiritual experience it has never ceased to be true that Satan hinders us. From all points of the compass, all along the line of battle, on the front lines and in the rear, at the dawn of day and in the midnight hour, Satan hinders us. If we toil in the field, he seeks to break the plow; if we build the wall, he labors to cast down the stones; if we would serve God in suffering or in conflict–everywhere Satan hinders us. He hinders us when we are first coming to Jesus Christ. We had ferocious conflicts with Satan when we first looked to the cross and lived. Now that we are saved, he endeavors to hinder the development of our personal character. You may be congratulating yourself, “I have walked consistently up to this point; no man can challenge my integrity.” Beware of boasting, for your virtue will yet be tried; Satan will direct his devices against those very qualities for which you are the most famous. If you have been a firm believer to this point, your faith will continually be attacked; if you have been meek as Moses, expect to be tempted to speak unadvisedly with your lips. The birds will peck at your ripest fruit, and the wild boar will dash his tusks at your choicest vines. Satan is sure to hinder us when we are heartfelt in prayer. He counters our persistence, and weakens our faith in order that, if possible, we may miss any blessing. Nor is Satan any less vigilant in obstructing Christian effort. There was never a revival of religion without a revival of his opposition. As soon as Ezra and Nehemiah begin to labor, Sanballat and Tobiah are stirred up to hinder them. What then? We are not alarmed because Satan hinders us, for it is a proof that we are on the Lord’s side, and are doing the Lord’s work, and in his strength we shall win the victory, and triumph over our adversary.

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

“The upright love you.” — Song of Solomon 1:4

Believers love Jesus with a deeper affection than they dare to give to any other being. They would sooner lose father and mother than part with Christ. They hold all earthly securities with a loose hand, but they carry him locked fast in their hearts. They voluntarily deny themselves for his sake, but they will not be driven to deny him. The fire of persecution can dry up a trickle of love; the true believer’s love is a deeper stream than this. Men have contrived to divide the faithful from their Master, but their attempts have been fruitless  in every age. Neither crowns of honor, nor frowns of anger, have untied this more than Gordian knot. This is no everyday attachment which the world’s power may eventually dissolve. Neither man nor devil have found a key which opens this lock. Never has the craft of Satan been faultier than when he has exercised it in seeking to tear in two this union of two divinely welded hearts. It is written, and nothing can blot out the sentence, “The upright love you.” The intensity of the love of the righteous, however, is not to be judged so much by what it appears to be as by what the upright long for. It is our daily lament that we cannot love enough. If only our hearts were capable of holding more, and reaching further. Like Samuel Rutherford, we sigh and cry, “Oh, for as much love as would go around about the earth, and over heaven—yes, even the highest heavens, and ten thousand worlds—that I might pour all out upon the beautiful, beautiful, and only beautiful, Christ.” Sadly, our longest reach is but a small span of love, and our affection is but as a drop in a bucket compared with his rewards. Measure our love by our intentions, and it is high indeed; it is accordingly, we trust, our Lord does assess it. Oh, that we could give all the love in all hearts in one great throng, a gathering together of all loves to him who is altogether lovely!

My notes:  Our pastor referenced Luke 14:26 yesterday; not that we should hate our families, but that the affection we have for them should so contrast in comparison with that we have for Jesus.

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

“And may the whole earth be filled with His glory. Amen, and Amen.” — Psalm 72:19

This is a huge request. To intercede for a whole city needs a stretch of faith, and there are times when a prayer for one man is enough to stagger us. But how far-reaching was the psalmist’s dying intercession! How comprehensive! How awe-inspiring! “Let the whole earth be filled with his glory.” It does not exempt a single country, however crushed by the foot of superstition; it does not exclude a single nation, however barbarous. For the cannibal as well as for the civilized, for all regions and races this prayer is expressed: it encompasses the whole circle of the earth, and omits no son of Adam. We must be active and undertaking for our Master, or we cannot honestly offer such a prayer. The petition is not asked with a sincere heart unless we endeavor, as God shall help us, to extend the kingdom of our Master.

Are there not some who neglect both prayer and labor? Reader, is it your prayer? Turn your eyes to Calvary. Behold the Lord of Life nailed to a cross, with the crown of thorns about his brow, with bleeding head, and hands, and feet. What! Can you look upon this miracle of miracles, the death of the Son of God, without feeling within your heart a marvelous adoration that language never can express? And when you feel the blood applied to your conscience, and know that he has blotted out your sins, you are not a man unless you begin from your knees and cry, “Let the whole earth be filled with his glory; Amen, and Amen.” Can you bow before the Crucified in loving reverence, and not wish to see your Monarch master of the world? Shame on you if you can pretend to love your Prince, and desire not to see him the universal ruler. Your piety is worthless unless it leads you to wish that the same mercy which has been extended to you may bless the whole world. Lord, it is harvest time, put in your sickle and reap.

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

“Watchman, how far gone is the night?” — Isaiah 21:11

What enemies are abroad? Deceptions are a countless swarm, and new ones appear every hour: against what heresy am I to be on my guard? Sins creep from their lurking places when the darkness reigns; I must myself climb the watchtower, and prayerfully keep watch. Our heavenly Protector foresees all the attacks which are about to be made upon us, and when the evil designed us is still just in the desire of Satan, he prays for us that our faith won’t fail, when we are sifted as wheat. Continue Oh gracious Watchman, to forewarn us of our foes, and for Zion’s sake don’t hold your peace.

“Watchman, how far gone is the night?” What weather is coming for the Church? Are the clouds lowering, or is it all clear and fair overhead? We must care for the Church of God with love and careful concern; and now that dead religion and infidelity are both threatening, let us observe the signs of the times and prepare for conflict.

“Watchman, how far gone is the night?” What stars are visible? What precious promises suit our current situation? You sound the alarm, give us the comfort also. Christ, the Northern Star, is ever fixed in his place, and all the stars are secure in the right hand of their Lord.

But watchman, when does the morning come? The Bridegroom delays. Are there no signs of his coming forth as the Sun of Righteousness? Hasn’t the morning star arisen as the promise of day? When will the day dawn, and the shadows flee away? Oh Jesus, if you don’t come in person to your waiting Church this day, yet come in Spirit to my yearning heart, and make it sing for joy.

“Now all the earth is bright and glad

With the fresh morn;

But all my heart is cold, and dark and sad:

Sun of the soul, let me behold thy dawn!

Come, Jesus, Lord,

Oh quickly come, according to thy word.”

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

“Shall your brothers go to war while you yourselves sit here?” — Numbers 32:6

Family has its obligations. The Reubenites and Gadites would not have been brotherly if they had claimed the land which had been conquered, and had left the rest of the people to fight for their portions alone. We have received much by means of the efforts and sufferings of the saints in years gone by, and if we do not make some return to the church of Christ by giving her our best energies, we are unworthy to be enrolled in her ranks. Others are combating the errors of the age bravely, or uncovering perishing ones from amid the ruins of the fall, and if we fold our hands in idleness we need to be warned, unless the curse of Meroz fall upon us. The Master of the vineyard says, “Why do you stand here all day idle?” What is the slacker’s excuse? Personal service of Jesus becomes even more the duty of all because it is cheerfully and abundantly rendered by some. The toils of devoted missionaries and passionate ministers shame us if we sit still in lethargy. Shrinking from trial is the temptation of those who are at ease in Zion: they would would gladly escape the cross and yet wear the crown; to them the question for this evening’s meditation is very applicable. If the most precious are tried in the fire, are we to escape the crucible? If the diamond must be ground upon the wheel, are we to be made perfect without suffering? Who has commanded the wind to cease from blowing because our skiff is in the deep water? Why and how should we be treated better than our Lord? The firstborn felt the rod, and why not the younger brethren? It is a cowardly pride which would choose a downy pillow and a silken couch for a soldier of the cross. He is far wiser who, at first being resigned to the divine will, grows by the vibrancy of grace to be pleased with it, and so learns to gather lilies at the foot of the cross, and, like Samson, to find honey in the lion.

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

“And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God.” — Romans 8:28

Upon some points a believer is absolutely sure. He knows, for instance, that God sits in the stern of the vessel when it rocks most. He believes that an invisible hand is always on the world’s tiller, and that wherever providence may drift, Jehovah steers it. That reassuring knowledge prepares him for everything. He looks over the raging waters and sees the spirit of Jesus walking upon the breakers, and he hears a voice saying, “It is I, be not afraid.” He also knows that God is always wise, and, knowing this, he is confident that there can be no accidents, no mistakes; that nothing can occur which shouldn’t have happened. He can say, “If I should lose all I have, it is better that I should lose than have, if God so wills: the worst disaster is the wisest and the kindest thing that could befall to me if God enacts it.” “We know that all things work together for good to them that love God.” The Christian does not merely hold this as a theory, but he knows it as a matter of fact. Everything has worked for good so far; the toxic drugs mixed in appropriate proportions have worked to cure; the sharp cuts of the scalpel have cleansed out the scarred flesh and facilitated the healing. Every event as yet has worked out the most divinely blessed results; and so, believing that God rules all, that he governs wisely, that he brings good out of evil, the believer’s heart is assured, and he is enabled calmly to meet each trial as it comes. The believer can in the spirit of true resignation pray, “Send me what you will, my God, so long as it comes from you; never came there an harmful portion from your table to any of your children.”

“Say not my soul, From whence can God relieve my care?’

Remember that Omnipotence has servants everywhere.

His method is sublime, his heart profoundly kind,

God never is before his time, and never is behind.”

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

“I smote you and every work of your hands with blasting wind, mildew and hail.” — Haggai 2:17

See how destructive the hail is to the standing crops, beating the precious grain to the ground! How grateful should we be when the corn is spared so terrible a ruin! Let us offer thanksgiving to the Lord. Even more to be dreaded are those mysterious destroyers–smut, bunt, rust, and mildew. These turn the ear into a soot-like mass, or render it decayed, or dry up the grain, and all in a manner so beyond all human control that the farmer is compelled to cry, “This is the finger of God.” Innumerable minute fungi cause the mischief, and were it not for the goodness of God, the rider on the black horse would soon scatter famine over the land. Infinite mercy spares the food of men, but in view of the active agents which are ready to destroy the harvest, wisely we are taught to pray, “Give us this day our daily bread.” The curse is ever near; we have constant need of the blessing. When blight and mildew come they are disciplines from heaven, and men must learn to bear the rod, and him that has appointed it.

Spiritually, mildew is a common evil. When our work is most promising this blight appears. We hoped for many conversions to Christ, but lo, we face a general apathy, a widespread worldliness, or a unfeeling hardness of heart! There may be no open sin in those for whom we are laboring, but there is an absence of sincerity and decision sadly disappointing our wishes. We learn from this our dependence on the Lord, and the need of prayer that no blight may fall upon our work. Spiritual pride or laziness will soon bring upon us this dreadful evil, and only the Lord of the harvest can remove it. Mildew may even attack our own hearts, and shrivel our prayers and spiritual exercises. May it please the great Lord of the harvest to avert so serious a calamity. Shine, blessed Sun of Righteousness, and drive the blights away.

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

“The people who know their God will display strength and take action.” — Daniel 11:32

Every believer understands that to know God is the highest and best form of knowledge; and this spiritual knowledge is a source of strength to the Christian. It strengthens his faith. Believers are constantly spoken of in the Scriptures as being persons who are enlightened and taught of the Lord; they are said to “have an anointing from the Holy One,” and it is the Spirit’s unique office to lead them into all truth, and all this for the increase and the fostering of their faith. Knowledge strengthens love, as well as faith. Knowledge opens the door, and then through that door we see our Savior. Or, to use another analogy, knowledge paints the portrait of Jesus, and when we see that portrait then we love him; we cannot love a Christ whom we do not know, at least, in some degree. If we know only a little of the excellence of Jesus, what he has done for us, and what he is doing now, we cannot love him much; but the more we know him, the more we shall love him. Knowledge also strengthens hope. How can we hope for a thing if we do not know of its existence? Hope may be the telescope, but until we receive instruction, our ignorance stands in the front of the glass, and we can see nothing whatever; knowledge removes the interposing object, and when we look through the bright optic glass we discern the glory to be revealed, and anticipate it with joyous confidence. Knowledge supplies us reasons for patience. How shall we have patience unless we know something of the sympathy of Christ, and understand the good which is to come out of the correction which our heavenly Father sends us? Nor is there one single virtue of the Christian which, under God, will not be fostered and brought to perfection by holy knowledge. How important, then, is it that we should grow not only in grace, but in the “knowledge” of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

While Spurgeon’s writings are one of the most valuable assets to believers and the Church, they do not supplant the Word in any sense.  I try to read the whole chapter from where the reference comes, and this morning’s passage in Daniel brings light because the “The people who know their God will display strength and take action” are doing so in the midst of some of the greatest turmoil, warfare, and oppression that the world has ever seen. And they are able to do so because they know the Living Word.

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

“As Jesus was on his way…” — Luke 8:42

Jesus is passing through the crowd to the house of Jairus, to raise the ruler’s dead daughter; but he is so abundant in goodness that he works another miracle while upon the road. While this rod of Aaron is yet to bear the blossom of an unaccomplished wonder, it yields the ripe almonds of a perfect work of mercy. It is enough for us, if we have just one purpose, to go directly and accomplish it; it would be imprudent to expend our energies by the way. Hastening to the rescue of a drowning friend, we cannot afford to exhaust our strength upon another in like danger. It is enough for a tree to yield one sort of fruit, and for a man to fulfill his own unique calling. But our Master knows no limit of power or boundary of mission. He is so prolific of grace, that like the sun which shines as it rolls onward in its orbit, his path is radiant with loving kindness. He is a swift arrow of love, which not only reaches its ordained target, but perfumes the air through which it flies. Virtue is forever going out of Jesus, as sweet fragrances exhale from flowers; and it always will be emanating from him, as water from a sparkling fountain. What delightful encouragement this truth affords us! If our Lord is so ready to heal the sick and bless the needy, then, my soul, don’t be slow to put yourself in his path, that he may smile on you. Don’t be slack in asking, if he is so abundant in granting. Give earnest attention to his word now, and at all times, that Jesus may speak through it to your heart. Where he is to be found make your rest there, that you may obtain his blessing. When he is present to heal, may he not heal you? But surely he is present even now, for he always comes to hearts which need him. And don’t you need him? Ah, he knows how much! Oh, Son of David, turn your eye and look upon the distress which is now before you, and make this humble beggar whole.

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

“And its lamp is the Lamb.” — Revelation 21:23

Quietly contemplate the Lamb as the light of heaven. Light in Scripture is the symbol of joy. The joy of the saints in heaven is encompassed in this: Jesus chose us, loved us, bought us, cleansed us, robed us, kept us, and glorified us: we are here entirely through the Lord Jesus. Each one of these thoughts shall be to them like a cluster of the grapes of the promised land. Light is also the source of beauty. Nothing of beauty is left when light is gone. Without light no radiance flashes from the sapphire, no peaceful gleam proceeds from the pearl; and likewise, all the beauty of the saints above comes from Jesus. As planets, they reflect the light of the Sun of Righteousness; they live as beams proceeding from the central star. If he withdrew, they must die; if his glory were veiled, their glory must expire. Light is also the symbol of knowledge. In heaven, our knowledge will be perfect, but the Lord Jesus himself will be its fountain. Difficult, but God-ordered circumstances, never understood before, will then be clearly seen, and all that puzzles us now will become plain to us in the light of the Lamb. Oh! what disclosures there will be and what glorifying of the God of love! Light also means revelation. Light reveals. In this world, it doesn’t yet appear what we shall be. God’s people are a concealed people, but when Christ receives his people into heaven, he will touch them with the wand of his own love, and change them into the image of his revealed glory. They were poor and miserable, but what a transformation! They were stained with sin, but one touch of his finger, and they are bright as the sun, and clear as crystal. Oh! what a revelation! All this proceeds from the exalted Lamb. Whatever there may be of radiant splendor, Jesus shall be the center and soul of it all. Oh! to be present and to see him in his own light, the King of kings, and Lord of lords!

My notes:  One of the most difficult terms in Spurgeon’s devotion today was “dark providences;” “Dark providences, never understood before, will then be clearly seen, and all that puzzles us now will become plain to us in the light of the Lamb.” Hopefully, “Difficult, but God-ordered circumstances” is a good interpretation.  God certainly provides for our spiritual growth though trying, “dark” situations.  Even Christ was perfected (matured) through suffering.

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

“So she gleaned in the field until evening.” — Ruth 2:17

Let me learn from Ruth, the gleaner. Just as she went out to gather the ears of corn, so I go forth into the fields of prayer, meditation, the scriptures, and hearing the word to gather spiritual food. The gleaner gathers her portion ear by ear; her gains are little by little, so must I be content to search for single truths, if there is no greater quantity of them. Every ear helps to make a bundle, and every Biblical lesson assists in giving us wisdom that leads to salvation.

The gleaner keeps her eyes open. If she tripped over the stubble while daydreaming, she would have no food to carry home joyfully in the evening. I must be watchful in religious exercises so they don’t become unprofitable to me; I fear I have lost much already—Oh, that I may correctly evaluate my opportunities, and glean with greater diligence. The gleaner stoops for all she finds, and so must I. Haughty spirits criticize and object, but meek minds glean and receive benefit. A humble heart is a great help towards successfully hearing the gospel. The soul-saving word we need grafted in is not received except with meekness. A stiff neck makes a bad gleaner; bow down, my controlling pride, you’re a foul robber, not to be endured for a moment. What the gleaner gathers she holds; if she dropped one ear to find another, the result of her day’s work would be sparse; she is as careful to retain as to obtain, and so at last her gains are great. How often do I forget all that I hear; the second truth pushes the first out of my head, and so my reading and hearing end in much ado about nothing! Do I feel accordingly the importance of storing up the truth? A hungry belly makes the gleaner wise; if there’s no corn in her hand, there will be no bread on her table; she labors under the sense of necessity, and as a result her footstep is nimble and her grasp is firm.  I have even a greater necessity, Lord; help me to feel it, that it may urge me onward to glean in fields which yield so overflowing a reward to diligence.

My notes: Most contemporary translates use “barley” or “grain,” but I’ve chosen to retain corn, since it is something still picked and gleaned if you live in an area where it is raised. The term “stiff-necked” has replaced “stiff back,” and I substituted there. Another challenge is rendering the archaic punctuation with current styles; Spurgeon will have three or four sentences joined by semi-colons (which is acceptable, though not preferable) and some thoughts separated by a colon, where in current usage we would use a semi-colon.

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

“Who works all things after the counsel of his will.” — Ephesians 1:11

Our belief in God’s wisdom presumes and requires that he has a settled purpose and plan in the work of salvation. What would creation have been without his design? Is there a fish in the sea, or a fowl in the air, which was left to chance in its creation? No, but in every bone, joint, and muscle, sinew, gland, and blood vessel, you note the presence of a God working everything according to the design of infinite wisdom. And shall God be present in creation, ruling over all, and not in grace? Shall the new creation have the fickle genius of free will to preside over it when divine counsel rules the old creation? Look at Providence! We know that not a sparrow falls to the ground without your Father? Even the hairs of your head are all numbered. God weighs the mountains of our grief in scales, and the hills of our tribulation in balances. And shall there be a God in providence and not in grace? Shall the shell of a seed be ordained by wisdom and the kernel be left to blind chance? No; he knows the end from the beginning. He sees in its appointed place, not merely the corner-stone which he has laid in fair colors, in the blood of his dear Son, but he beholds in their ordained position each of the chosen stones taken out of the quarry of nature, and polished by his grace; he sees the whole from corner to cornice, from base to roof, from foundation to pinnacle. He has in his mind a clear knowledge of every stone which shall be laid in its prepared space, and how vast the edifice shall be, and when the capstone shall be brought forth with an outcry of “Grace! Grace! to it.” At the last it shall be clearly seen that in every chosen vessel of mercy, Jehovah did as he willed with his own; and that in every part of the work of grace he accomplished his purpose, and glorified his own name.

My notes:  Spurgeon uses the term “the fickle genius of free will,” as opposed to Providence.  The term “providence” in a religious sense is not that common in church language these days. It speaks to the “beneficial provision God makes for His church,” based on “prescience,” or foreknowledge.  As I’ve mentioned before, we are trying to comprehend these things that are incomprehensible to us, using inaccurate analogies.  God doesn’t look into the future; he resides there every bit as much as He does in what we consider the present. Revelation tells us that Jesus, the Lamb of God, was “slain before the foundation of the earth.”

God has never had a “thought occur to Him;” he has never had a “moment of inspiration.” Even the term “foreknowledge” is vague, in that God knowing something before it happened implies a flow of time that really doesn’t exist for God. He is no more a captive of time than He is a captive to space.

Again, I take the scripture at face value, at in that view it seems clearly that we have the free will to accept or reject Him.  At the same time, I accept His control over my destiny completely.  I can’t comprehend his eternal nature, only what He has revealed…

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

“You have crowned the year with Your bounty.” — Psalm 65:11

All the year round, every hour of every day, God is richly blessing us; both when we sleep and when we wake his mercy waits upon us. The sun may leave us a legacy of darkness, but our God never ceases to shine upon his children with the light of his love. Like a river, his loving kindness is always flowing, with an abundance as inexhaustible as his own nature. Like the atmosphere which constantly surrounds the earth, and is always ready to support the life of man, the benevolence of God surrounds all his creatures; in it, as in their element, they live, and move, and have their being. Yet as the sun on summer days cheers us with sunbeams warmer and brighter than at other times, and as rivers are at certain seasons swollen by the rain, and as the atmosphere itself is sometimes charged with more fresh, more bracing, or more balmy influences than before, so is it with the mercy of God; it has its golden hours; its days of overflow, when the Lord magnifies his grace before the sons of men. Among the blessings of the regular refreshing, the joyous days of harvest are a special season of excessive favor. It is the glory of autumn that the ripe gifts of provision are then abundantly conferred; it is the mellow season of realization, whereas all before was but hope and expectation. Great is the joy of harvest. Happy are the reapers who fill their arms with the bounty of heaven. The Psalmist tells us that the harvest is the crowning of the year. Surely these crowning mercies call for crowning thanksgiving! Let us render it by the inward emotions of gratitude. Let our hearts be warmed; let our spirits remember, meditate, and think upon this goodness of the Lord. Then let us praise him with our voice, and extol and magnify his name from whose bounty all this goodness flows. Let us glorify God by yielding our gifts to his cause. A practical proof of our gratitude is a special offering of thanks to the Lord of the harvest.

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

“Please let me go to the field and glean among the ears of corn.” — Ruth 2:2

Depressed and anxious Christian, come and glean today in the broad field of promise. Here are an abundance of precious promises, which exactly meet your needs. Take this one: “He will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking wick.” Does that match your case? A reed, helpless, insignificant, and weak, a bruised reed, out of which no music can come; weaker than weakness itself; a reed, and that reed bruised, yet, he will not break you; but on the contrary, will restore and strengthen you. You are like a smoking wick: no light, no warmth can come from you, but he will not quench you; he will blow with his sweet breath of mercy till he fans you to a flame.

Would you glean another ear? ” Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” What caring words! Your heart is tender, and the Master knows it, and so he speaks so gently to you. Won’t you obey him, and come to him even now? Take another ear of corn: “Do not fear, you worm Jacob, you men of Israel; I will help you,” declares the Lord, “and your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel.” How can you fear with such a wonderful reassurance as this? And you can gather ten thousand such golden ears as these! “I have wiped out your transgressions like a thick cloud and your sins like a heavy mist.” Or this, “Though your sins are as scarlet, they will be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they will be like wool.” Or this, “The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come.’ And let the one who hears say, ‘Come.’ And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who wishes take the water of life without cost.”

Our Master’s field is very abundant; behold the armloads. See, there they lie before you, poor, nervous believer! Gather them up, make them your own, for Jesus calls you to take them. Don’t be afraid, only believe! Draw together these sweet promises, thresh them out by meditation and feast on them with joy.

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

“Now these are the singers, … they were engaged in their work day and night.” — 1 Chronicles 9:33

Everything was is such good order in the temple that the sacred song never ceased: for constantly the singers praised the Lord, whose mercy endures forever. As mercy did not stop ruling either by day or by night, so neither did music quiet its holy ministry. My heart, there is a lesson pleasantly taught to you in the ceaseless song of Zion’s temple: you too are a constant debtor, and you need to make sure that gratitude, like charity, never fails to flow forth. God’s praise is constant in heaven, which is to be your final dwelling-place, so learn to practice eternal praise. Around the earth as the sun scatters his light, his beams awaken grateful believers to fine-tune their morning hymn, so that by the priesthood of the saints perpetual praise is kept up at all hours; they wrap our globe in a cloak of thanksgiving, and encircle it with a golden belt of song.

The Lord always deserves to be praised for what he is in himself, for his works of creation and provision, for his goodness towards his creatures, and especially for the transcendent act of redemption, and all the marvelous blessing flowing from it. It is always beneficial to praise the Lord; it cheers the day and brightens the night; it lightens toil and softens sorrow; and more than earthly gladness it sheds a sanctifying radiance which makes it less liable to blind us with its glare. Don’t we have something to sing about at this moment? Can’t we weave a song out of our present joys, or our past deliverances, or our future hopes? Earth yields her summer fruits: the hay is housed, the golden grain invites the sickle, and the sun tarrying long to shine upon a fruitful earth, shortens the interval of darkness that we may lengthen the hours of devout worship. Through the love of Jesus, let us be encouraged to close the day with a psalm of sanctified gladness.

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

“We are one;   I in them and You in Me,”– John 17:23

If this is the union which exists between our souls and the person of our Lord, how deep and broad is the channel of our communion! This is no narrow pipe through which a thread-like stream may wind its way, it is a channel of amazing depth and breadth, along whose glorious length a weighty volume of living water may rush and flood. Behold, he has set before us an open door, don’t let us be slow to enter. This city of communion has many pearly gates: every separate gate is of one pearl, and each gate is thrown open to the widest that we may enter, guaranteed of welcome. If there were but one small loophole through which to talk with Jesus, even then it would be a extraordinary privilege to push a word of fellowship through the narrow door; how much we are blessed in having so large an entrance! Had the Lord Jesus been far away from us, with many stormy seas between, we should have longed to send a messenger to him to carry him our love, and bring us tidings from his Father’s house; but see his kindness, for he has built his house next door to ours; no, even more, he takes lodging with us, and resides in poor humble hearts, that so he may have perpetual communication with us. Oh, how foolish we must be, if we do not live in habitual communion with him. When the road is long, and dangerous, and difficult, we don’t find it unusual that friends seldom meet each other, but when they live together, shall Jonathan forget his David? When her husband is upon a journey, a wife may tolerate many days without holding conversation with him, but she could never endure to be separated from him if she knew him to be in one of the rooms of her own house. Why, believer, do you not sit at his banquet of wine? Seek your Lord, for he is near; embrace him, for he is your Brother. Hold Him fast, for he is your Husband; and embrace him to your heart, for he is of your own flesh.

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

“The one who comes to Me I will certainly not cast out.” — John 6:37

No limit is set to the duration of this promise. It does not merely say, “I will not cast out a sinner when he first comes to me,” but, “I will certainly not cast out.” The original reads, “I will not, not cast out,” or “I will never, never cast out.” The text means that Christ will not at first reject a believer; and that since he will not do it at first, so he will not to the last.

But suppose the believer sins after coming? “If any man sin we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.” But suppose that believers backslide? “I will heal their backsliding, I will love them freely: for my anger is turned away from him.” But believers may fall under temptation! “God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it.” But the believer may fall into sin as David did! Yes, but he will “Purge them with hyssop, and they shall be clean; he will wash them and they shall be whiter than snow”; “From all their iniquities will I cleanse them.”

“Once in Christ, in Christ forever,

Nothing from his love can sever.”

“I give to my sheep,” he says, “eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man snatch them out of my hand.” What do you say to this, Oh unsteady, weak mind? Is not this a priceless mercy, that in coming to Christ, you do not come to One who will treat you well for a little while, and then send you out on your own, but he will receive you and make you his bride, and you shall be his forever? Don’t receive any longer the spirit of bondage again to fear, but rather the spirit of adoption in which you shall cry, Abba, Father! Oh! the grace of these words: “I will certainly not cast out.”