Paul Smith

Paul Smith

The text is Genesis 32:12, part of Jacob's prayer to the Lord his God: "For you said, 'I will surely treat you well…" In Spurgeon's translation, it is, "I will surely do thee good." After something of a meditation on Jacob's privilege, and ours, of having the living God as our God, Spurgeon emphasises the further blessing of being able to come before him in prayer. This leads him into a sermon about praying, the kind of sermon to which he often returns, pressing home not only the wonder but the necessity of calling upon the Lord. Here Jacob's prayer becomes first our memorial, for we need to remember what the Lord has said, studying out the distinctive elements of his particular promises to us. We ought to consider this prayer next as God's bond—his promise holding him fast to a particular course of action. Everything that is in God secures the assured outcome. And so this ought to be our plea in prayer also: "You said!" What a childlike plea! How earnest and how expectant! Here is a way to plead which will bring the pledged result to everyone who comes with faith to the God who has promised blessing to those who call upon him. And so we still learn, from Jacob, how to pray.

The Lord speaks by Isaiah to offer rest and refreshment to weary souls, the prophet communicating industriously, simply, patiently, progressively, and attractively, a model for the teacher and preacher of gospel truth. That rest and refreshment are described, the language telling us that this gospel blessing is fitting, effective, and available. But, tragically, this very rest and refreshment was resisted by those to whom it was merely childish babbling, and to they brought judgment on themselves. Will we resist or receive God's rest in Christ?

What happens when you pray? What should you expect? The foundation of our prayers is laid in God himself, in his faithful love, his gracious plan, and his precious word. The expression of our prayers, springing from that foundation, is in a calling upon the Lord and praying to him, an expectant looking. Then the expectation of our prayers is that, framed by God and his plan and his promises, he will respond readily and richly, and so bless his people, not because of any good thing in them, but because of his own goodness toward them.

Spurgeon's gospel logic is uncomplicated, in principle and in practice, and it shows here. Our Lord says, "If you love me, keep my commandments." It is clear from this sermon that the straightforwardness of this statement was as objectionable then as now, and caused as many problems. Beginning with a stimulating survey of all the 'ifs' in the chapter, the preacher then settles on this simple statement as a very serious 'if', having to do with the very question of love in the heart of a man, the presence or absence of faith's affectionate attachment to Christ as Lord and Saviour. Spurgeon next makes clear that the test of love is judiciously chosen: obedience as a demonstration of love cuts through so much fluff and stuff, and gets to the core of things. Spurgeon explains the wisdom of this test, and why it is such an appropriate and clear indication of whether or not there is love to the Lord in the heart. Running out of time, he gives us just a couple of lines to assure us that love will endure this test, before closing with a brief series of potent applications, exhorting the saints to discover and hold to the commandments of Christ as they come to bear upon us, and challenging unbelievers to face the fearful consequences of declaring that they do not have any love to Jesus Christ, the Saviour of sinners.

Mark Higgins

Mark Higgins

Here is another probing sermon, profitable even when painful. Here is the Christ walking among the Ephesian church in Revelation 2, first of all perceiving their hearts and lives and concluding that while he knows their works he still has something against them. The Lord therefore issues a prescription, to remember from where they have fallen, and to repent. This leads to our Lord's persuasion, in which he issues both a threatening warning and a sweet promise. You can see that the intention is not at all to crush, but there is still a challenge to our souls in the first heading, as we are forced to face the possibility of declining love for Christ in our hearts. The prescription comes to us clearly and helpfully, in three yoked commands: remember, repent, and return. Again, this is not difficult to understand, but it is not necessarily easy to obey. Finally, Spurgeon presses in some motives with our Lord's persuasives, his warning and his promising, both designed to put us back in the way of love. To decline in love to Christ is the Christian's wasting disease; to grow in love for Christ is the Christian's foretaste of glory. So we are obliged to look into our own hearts, not in hopeless despair, but in order that we might, at Christ's direction and invitation, address any drifting away from him whom our souls love.

The disciples were not inclined to believe that Jesus had risen from the dead. They were intelligent men, they were convinced Jews, and they were learning disciples, and were resistant to the idea of a risen Jesus. In the face of their suspicion, the Lord gave them a great deal of instruction. They heard his voice and words, they saw his hands and feet, they touched his flesh and bones, they gave him fish and honeycomb, and they thought about the truth which they had been taught. All of this provides a great deal of instruction: a rebuke to unbelief, an offer or life, a gift of peace, a prompt to fellowship, and a glimpse of hope.

Who can plumb the depths of our Lord's sorrows, or scale the heights of his joys? It was for the joy that was set before him that he endured the cross and despised the shame. So we will ask what was it that Jesus did when he so endured and so despised. We must consider how he did this, and what was that joy which sustained him. Finally, we will assess whether or not Jesus has entered that joy, or in what sense he already enjoys or still anticipates that joy that was set before him. This is the Christ whom we are called to consider as we run the race that is set before us.