you up for ever with sinners. But, my brother,” said the minister “tell me what has brought you into such a distressed state of mind?” “Oh sir,” he said, “it was looking away from the God of providence, to myself. I had managed to save about one hundred pounds, and I have been lying here ill now this last six months, and I was thinking that my one hundred pounds would soon be spent, and then what should I do? I think I shall have to go to the workhouse, I have no friend to take care of me, and I have been thinking about that one hundred pounds of mine. I knew it would soon be gone, and then, then, how could the Lord provide for me? I never had either doubt or fear until I began to think about temporal matters. There was a time when I could leave all that with God. If I had not had one hundred pounds, I would have felt quite sure he would provide for me; but I begin to think now that I cannot provide for myself. The moment I think of that, my heart is darkened.” The minister then led him away from all trust in an arm of flesh, and told him his dependence for bread and water was not on his one hundred pounds, but on the God who is the possessor of heaven and earth — that as for his bread being given him and his water being sure, God would take care of that, for in so doing he would only be fulfilling his promise. The poor man was enabled in the matter of providence to cast himself entirely upon God, and then his doubts and fears subsided, and once more he began to walk the sea of trouble, and did not sink. Oh believer, if you take your business into your own hands, you will soon be in trouble. The old Puritan said, “He who carves for himself will soon cut his fingers,” and I believe it. There never was a man who began to take his own matters out of God’s hand that was not glad enough to give them back again. He who runs before the cloud of providence runs on a fool’s errand. If we leave all our matters, temporal as well as spiritual, in the hand of God, we shall lack no good thing; and what is better still, we shall have no care, no trouble, no thought; we shall cast all our burden upon him for he cares for us. There is no need for two to care, for God to care and the creature too. If the Creator cares for us, then the creature may sing all day long with joy and gladness: —
Mortals cease from toil and sorrow,
God provides for the morrow.
13. II. But now, in the second part of my sermon, I wish to speak of SPIRITIUAL THINGS. To the Christian, these are the causes of more trouble than all his temporal trials. In the matters of the soul and of eternity many doubts will arise. I shall, however, divide them into two kinds — doubts about our present acceptance, and doubts about our final perseverance.
14. There are many of God’s people who are very vexed and troubled with doubts about their present acceptance. “Oh,” they say, “there was a time when I knew I was a child of God; I was sure that I was Christ’s; my heart would fly up to heaven at a word; I looked to Christ hanging on the cross, I fixed all my trust on him, and a sweet, calm, and blessed repose filled my spirit.
What peaceful hours I then enjoyed;
How sweet their memory still!
But they have left an aching void,
The world can never fill.
And now,” says this doubting one, “now I am afraid I never knew the Lord; I think that I have deceived myself, and that I have been a hypocrite. Oh that I could only know that I am Christ’s, I would give all I had in the world, if he would only let me know that he is my beloved, and that I am his.” Now, soul, I will deal with you just as I have been dealing with Peter. Your doubts arise from looking to secondary causes, and not to Christ. Let us see if this is not the truth. Why do you doubt? Your answer is, “I doubt, because I feel my sin so much. Oh, what sins have I committed! When I first came to Christ I thought I was the chief of sinners; but now I know I am. Day after day I have added to my guilt; and since my pretended conversion,” says this doubting one, “I have been a bigger sinner than I ever was before. I have sinned against light and against knowledge, against grace, and mercy, and favour. Oh never was there such a sinner under God’s heaven outside of hell as I am.” But, soul, is not this looking to secondary causes? It is true, you are the chief of sinners; take that for granted; let us not dispute it. Your sins are as evil as you say they are, and a great deal more so. Depend on it, you are worse than you think yourself to be. You think you are bad enough, but you are not as bad in your own estimation as you really are. Your sins seem to you to be like roaring billows, but in God’s sight they are like towering mountains without a summit. You seem to yourself to be black — black as the tents of Kedar; in God’s eyes you are blacker still. Set that down, to begin with, that the waves are big, and that the winds are howling; I will not dispute that. I ask you, what have you to do with that? Does not the Word of God command you to look to Christ. Great as your sins are, Christ is greater than all of them. They are black; but his blood can wash you whiter than snow. I know your sins deserve damnation; but Christ’s merits deserve salvation. It is true, the pit of hell is your lawful portion, but heaven itself is your gracious portion. What! is Christ less powerful than your sin? That cannot be! To suppose that would be to make the creature mightier than the Creator. What! is your guilt more prevalent with God than Christ’s righteousness? Can you think so little of Christ as to imagine that your sins can overwhelm and conquer him? Oh man, your sins are like mountains; but Christ’s love is like Noah’s flood; it prevails twenty cubits, and the tops of the mountains are covered. It is looking at sin and not looking to the Saviour that has made you doubt. You are looking to the secondary cause, and not to him who is greater than all.
15. “No, but,” you reply, “it is not my sin, sir, that grieves me; it is this: I feel so hardened; I do not feel my sin as I ought to. Oh if I could only weep as some weep! If I could only pray as some pray! Then I think I could be saved. If I could feel some of the terrors that good men have felt, then I think I could believe. But I feel none of these things. My heart seems like a rock of ice, hard as granite, and as cold as an iceberg. It will not melt. You may preach, but it is not affected; I may pray, but my heart seems dumb; I may read even the account of Christ’s death, and yet my soul is not moved by it. Oh surely I cannot be saved!” Ah this is looking to secondary causes, again! Have you forgotten that Word which says, “God is greater than our hearts?” Have you forgotten that? Oh child of God! shame on you since you look for comfort where comfort can never be found. Look to yourself for peace! Why, there never can be any in this land of war. Look to your own heart for joy! There can be none there, in this barren wilderness of sin. Turn, turn your eye to Christ: he can cleanse your heart; he can create life, and light, and truth in the inward parts; he can wash you until you shall be whiter than snow, and cleanse your soul and quicken it, and make it live, and feel, and move, so that it shall hear his simplest words, and obey his whispered mandate. Oh do not look now at the secondary cause; look at the great first cause; otherwise I shall ask you the question again, “Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt”
16. “Still,” another says, “I could believe, notwithstanding my sin and my hardness of heart; but, do you know, that recently I have lost communion with Christ to such an extent that I cannot help thinking that I must be a castaway. Oh! sir, there were times when Christ used to visit me, and bring me such sweet love tokens. I was like the little ewe lamb in the parable; I drank out of his cup, and fed from his table, and lay in his bosom; often he took me to his banqueting house, his banner over me was love. What feastings I had then! I would bask in the sunlight of his countenance. It was summer with my soul. But now it is winter, and the sun is gone, and the banqueting house is closed. No fruits are on the table; no wines are in the bottles of the promise; I come to the sanctuary, but I find no comfort; I turn to the Bible, but I find no solace; I fall on my knees, but even the stream of prayer seems to be a dry brook.” Ah! soul, but are you not still looking to secondary causes? These are the most precious of all secondary things, but yet you must not look to them, but to Christ. Remember, it is not your communing that saves you, but Christ’s dying; it is not Christ’s comforting visit to your soul, that ensures your salvation; it is Christ’s own visit to the house of mourning, and to the garden of Gethsemane. I wish to have you keep your comforts as long as you can;
