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SUBJECT: 062 PSA 77:9 A Question for a Questioner
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A QUESTION FOR A QUESTIONER
by
C. H. SPURGEON
1834-1892
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?"-- Psa_77:9
Asaph was very grievously troubled in spirit. The deep waters were not
only around his barque, but they had come in even unto his soul. When the
spirit of a man is wounded, then is he wounded indeed; and such was the
case with this man of God. In the time of his trouble he was attacked
with doubts and fears; so that he was made to question the very
foundations of things. Had he not taken to continual prayer he had
perished in his affliction; but he cried unto God with his voice, and the
Lord gave ear unto him. Nor did he only pray, but he used the fittest
means for escaping from his despondency. Very wisely this good man argued
with himself, and sought to cure his unbelief. He treated himself
homoeopathically, meeting like with like. As he was attacked by the
disease of questioning, he gave himself questions as a medicine. Observe
how he kills one question with another, as men fight fire with fire. Here
we have six questions, one after another, each one striking at the very
heart of unbelief. "Will the Lord cast off for over? Will he be
favourable no more? Is his mercy clean gone for ever? Doth his promise
fail for evermore? Hath God forgotten to be gracious? Hath he in anger
shut up his tender mercies?" If questions are raised at all let us go
through with them; and as the Saviour answered one question of his
opponents by another, so may we also silence the questions of unbelief by
further questions which shall strip our doubt of all disguises.
The question which makes our text is meant to end other questions. You may
carry truth as far as ever you like, and it will always be truth. Truth is
like those crystals which, when split up into the smallest possible
fragments, still retain their natural form. You may break truth in pieces,
you may do what you like with it, and it is truth throughout; but error is
diverse within itself, and evermore bears its own death within itself. You
can see its falsehood even in its own light.
Bring it forward, strip it of its disguises, behold it in its naked form,
and its deformity at once appears. Carry unbelief to its proper
consequences, and you will revolt from it, and be driven by the grace of
God to faith. Sometimes our doubts assume appearances which are not their
own, and so are hard to deal with; but if we make them take their own
natural shapes, we shall easily destroy them. The question before us is
what the logician would call a reductio ad absurdum; it reduces doubt to
an absurdity; it puts into plain and truthful words the thought of an
unbelieving mind, and at once it is seen to be a horrible notion. "Is his
mercy clean gone for ever?" One might smile while reading a suggestion so
absurd, and yet there is grave cause for trembling in the profanity of
such a question. "Hath God forgotten?" We stumble at the first word. How
can God forget? "Hath God forgotten to be?" We snap the question at that
point, and it is blasphemous. It is no better when we give it as a
whole,--"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" The bare idea is both
ridiculous and blasphemous. Again, I say, it is wise when we are vexed
with evil questioning to put down the questions in black and white, and
expose them to the daylight. Drive the wretched things out of their
holes; hunt them in the open; and they will soon be destroyed. Let the
light of God into the dark cellar of your despondency, and you will soon
quit the den in sheer disgust at your own folly. Make a thought appear to
be absurd and you have gone a long way towards conquering it.
The question now before us is one of very wide application. I shall not
attempt to suggest all the ways in which it may be employed, but I am going
to turn it to three uses this morning. The first is for the man of God in
distress. Let him take this question, and put it to his own reason and
common sense, and especially to his own faith, "Hath God forgotten to be
gracious?" When we have handled the question in that way, we will pass it
over to the seeking sinner who is despondent, and we will ask him whether
he really believes that God hath forgotten to be gracious. When this is
done, we may have a moment or two left for the Christian worker who is
dispirited, who cannot do his work as he would wish to do, and who mourns
over the little result coming from it. "Hath God forgotten to be gracious?"
Will you be allowed to go forth weeping, bearing precious seed, and will
you never come again rejoicing, bringing your sheaves with you? We shall
have quite enough matter to fill up our time, and many fragments remaining
when the feast is over. May God the Holy Spirit bless the word!
I. TO THE MAN OF GOD IN DISTRESS, this question is commended, "Hath God
forgotten to be gracious?"
What kind of distress is that which suggests such a question? Where had
Asaph been? In what darkness had he wandered? In what tangled wood had he
lost himself? How came he to get such a thought into his mind?
I answer, first, this good man had been troubled by unanswered prayers. "In
the day of my trouble," he says,--"In the day of my trouble I sought the
Lord"; and he seems to say that though he sought the Lord his griefs were
not removed. He was burdened, and he cried unto God beneath the burden, but
the burden was not lightened. He was in darkness, and he craved for light,
but not a star shone forth. Nothing is more grievous to the sincere pleader
than to feel that his petitions are not heeded by his God. It is a sad
business to have gone up, like Elijah's servant, seven times, and yet to
have seen no cloud upon the sky in answer to your importunity. It tries a
man to spend all night in wrestling, and to have won no blessing from the
covenant angel. To ask, and not to receive; to seek, and not to find; to
knock, and to see no open door,--these are serious trials to the heart, and
tend to extort the question, "Hath God forgotten to be gracious?"
Unanswered prayer is very staggering even to strong faith; but the weak
faith of a tried believer is hard put to it by long delays and threatened
denials. When the mercy-seat itself ceases to yield us aid, what can we do?
You will not wonder, then, considering your own tendency to doubt, that
this man of God, when his prayers did not bring him deliverance, cried out,
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?"
Besides that, he was enduring continued suffering. Our text says,
"My sore ran in the night." His wound was bleeding ever: there was no
cessation to his pain. At night he woke up and wished it were morning,
and when the daylight came he wished for night again, if, perchance, he
might obtain relief; but none came. Pain of body, when it is continuous
and severe, is exceedingly trying to our feeble spirits; but agony of
soul is worse still. Give me the rack sooner than despair. Do you know
what it is to have a keen thought working like an auger into your brain?
Has Satan seemed to pierce and gimlet your mind with a sharp, cutting
thought that would not be put aside? It is torment indeed to have a worm
gnawing at your heart, a fire consuming your spirit: yet a true child of
God may be thus tormented. When Asaph had prayed for relief, and the
relief did not come, the temptation came to him to ask, "Am I always to
suffer? Will the Lord never relieve me? It is written, 'He healeth the
broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds'; has he ceased from that
sacred surgery? 'Hath God forgotten to be gracious?'"
In addition to this, the man of God was in a state of mind in which his
depression had become inveterate. He says, "My soul refused to be
comforted." Many plasters were at hand, but he could not lay them upon
the wound; many cordials offered themselves, but he could not receive
them--his throat seemed closed. The meadows were green, but the gate was
nailed up, and the sheep could not get in; the brooks flowed softly, but
he could not reach their margin to lie down and drink. Asaph was lying at
the pool of Bethesda, and he saw others step in to be healed, but he had
no man to put him into the pool when the waters were troubled. His mind
had become confirmed in its despondency, and his soul refused to be
comforted.
More than that, there seemed to be a failure of the means of grace for him.
"I remembered God, and was troubled." Some of God's people go up to the
house of the Lord where they were accustomed to unite in worship with
delight, but they have no delight now; they even go to the communion-table,
and eat the bread and drink the wine, but they do not receive the body and
blood of Christ to the joy of their faith. Anon they get them to their
chambers, and open their Bibles, and bow their knees, and remember God; but
every verse seems to condemn them; their prayers accuse them, and God
himself seems turned to be their enemy; and then it is little wonder that
unbelief exclaims, "Hath God forgotten to be gracious?"
At the back of all this there was another trouble for Asaph, namely, that
he could not sleep. He says, "Thou holdest mine eyes waking." It seemed as
if the Lord himself held up his eyelids, and would not let them close in
sleep. Others on their beds were refreshed with "kind nature's sweet
restorer, balmy sleep"; but when Asaph sought his couch he was more
unrestful there than when he was engaged in the business of the day. We may
speak of sleeplessness very lightly, but among afflictions it is one of the
worst that can happen to men. When the chamber of repose becomes a furnace
of anguish it goes hard with a man. When the Psalmist could not find even
a transient respite in sleep, his weakness and misery drove him to say,
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?"
Moreover, there was one thing more: he lost the faculty of telling out his
grief: "I am so troubled that I cannot speak." There are some people to
whom we would not tell our trouble, for we know they would not understand
it, for they have never been in deep waters themselves; there are others to
whom we could not tell our trouble, though they might help us, because we
feel ashamed to do so. To be compelled to silence is a terrible increase to
anguish: the torrent is swollen when its free course is prevented. A dumb
sorrow is sorrow indeed. The grief that can talk will soon pass away; that
misery which is wordless is endless. The brook that ripples and prattles as
it flows is shallow; but deep waters are silent in their flow. When a man
falls under the power of a dumb spirit it needs Christ himself to come and
cast the devil out of him, for he is brought into a very grievous
captivity. We who know what a poor thing human nature is when it is brought
into affliction, are not surprised that the man of God said in such a case,
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?"
Having thus, you see, put the doubt in the most apologetic style,
and mentioned the excuses which mitigate the sin of the question, I am
now going to expose its unreasonableness and sinfulness, by considering
what answers we may give to such a question? I shall endeavour to answer
it by making it answer itself--
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Answer: Hath God forgotten
anything? If he could forget, could he be God? Is it not absurd to speak
of him as short of memory, of whose understanding there is no searching?
Shall we speak of him as forgetting, when to his mind all things are
present, and the past and the future are ever before him as in a map
which lies open before the beholder's eye? Oh child of God, why doest
thou talk thus? Oh troubled heart, wilt thou insult thy God, wilt thou
narrow the infinity of his mind? Can God forget? Thou art forgetful.
Perhaps thou canst scarce remember from hour to hour thine own words and
thine own promises; but is the Lord such an one as thou art? Not even the
least thing is passed over by him. He hath not forgotten the young ravens
in their nests, but he heareth when they cry. He hath not forgotten a
single blade of grass, but giveth to each its own drop of dew. He hath
not forgotten the sea monsters down deep in the caverns of ocean. He hath
not forgotten a worm that hides itself away beneath the sod; therefore
banish the thought once for all, that thy God hath forgotten anything,
much less that he hath forgotten to be gracious.
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Then hath he forgotten an
old, long, ancient, aye, eternal habit of his heart. Hast thou not heard
that his mercy endureth for ever? Did he not light up the lamps of heaven
because of his mercy? Do we not sing, "To him that made great lights: for
his mercy endureth for ever. The sun to rule by day, and the moon and
stars to rule by night: for his mercy endureth for ever"? Since the
creation hath he not in providence always been gracious? Is it not his
rule to open his hand, and supply the want of every living thing? Did he
not give his Son to redeem mankind? Hath he not sent his Spirit to turn
men from darkness to light? After having been gracious all these myriads
of ages, after having manifested his love and his grace at such a costly
rate, hath he forgotten it? Thou, O man, takest up a practice, and thou
layest it down; thou doest a thing now and then, and then thou ceasest
from thy way, but shall the eternal God who has always been gracious
forget to be gracious? Oh, Lord, forgive the thought.
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Why, then, he must have
forgotten his purpose! Hath thou not heard that or ever the earth was he
purposed to redeem unto himself a people who should be his own chosen,
his children, his peculiar treasure, a people near unto him? Before he
made the heavens and the earth, had he not planned in his own mind that
he would manifest the fulness of his grace toward his people in Christ
Jesus, and dost thou think that he has turned from his eternal purpose,
and rent up his divine decrees, and burned the book of life, and changed
the whole course of his operations among the sons of men? Dost thou know
what thou art at to talk so? Doth he not say, "I am the Lord, I change
not; therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed"? Hath he said, and will
he not do it? Hath he purposed, and shall it not come to pass? Banish,
then, the thought of his forgetting to be gracious.
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Then he must have forgotten
his own covenant; for what was the purport of his covenant with Jesus
Christ, the second Adam, on the behalf of his people? Is it not called a
covenant of grace? Is not grace the spirit and tenor and object of it? Of
old he said, "I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will
shew mercy on whom I will shew mercy"; and in his covenant he ordains to
show this grace to as many as are in Christ Jesus. Now, if a man's
covenant be confirmed it stands fast. Nothing that occurs after a
covenant has been made can alter it; and God having once made a covenant
turneth not from his promise and his oath. The law which was four hundred
and thirty years after the covenant made with Abraham could not change
the promises which the Lord had made to the believing seed, neither can
any accident or unforeseen circumstance make the covenant of grace null
and void; indeed, there are no accidents with God, nor any unforeseen
circumstances with him. He hath lifted his hand to heaven and hath sworn;
he hath declared, "If my covenant be not with day and night, then will I
cast away the seed of Jacob." The Lord hath not forgotten his covenant
with day and night, neither will he cast off his believing people. He
cannot, therefore, forget to be gracious.
More than that, when thou sayest, "Has God forgotten to be gracious?" dost
thou not forget that in such a case he must have forgotten his own glory?
for the main of his glory lies in his grace. In that which he does out of
free favour and love to undeserving, ill-deserving, hell-deserving men, he
displays the meridian splendour of his glory. His power, his wisdom, and
his immutability praise him; but in the forefront of all shines out his
grace. This is his darling attribute; by this he is illustrious on earth
and in heaven above. Hath God forgotten his own glory? Doth a man forget
his honour? Doth a man turn aside from his own name and fame? He may do so
in a moment of madness; but the thrice holy God hath not forgotten the
glory of his name, nor forgotten to be gracious.
Listen, and let unbelief stand rebuked. If God hath forgotten to
be gracious, then he must have forgotten his own Son, he must have
forgotten Calvary and the expiatory sacrifice offered there; he must have
forgotten him that is ever with him at his right hand, making
intercession for transgressors; he must have forgotten his pledge to him
that he shall see of the travail of his soul and be satisfied. Canst thou
conceive that? It is verging upon blasphemy to suppose such a thing; yet
it must be that he has forgotten his own Son if he hath forgotten to be
gracious.
Once more; if this were the case, the Lord must have forgotten
his own self; for grace is of the essence of his nature, since God is
love. We forget ourselves and disgrace ourselves, but God cannot do so.
Oh beloved, it is part and parcel of God's own nature that he should show
mercy to the guilty and be gracious to those who trust in him. Hast thou
forgotten as a father thy children? Can a woman forget her sucking child
that she should not have compassion upon the son of her womb? These
things are barely possible, but it is utterly impossible that the great
Father should forget himself by forgetting his children; that the great
Lord who hath taken us to be his peculiar heritage and his jewels should
cease to value us and forget to be gracious to us.
I think I hear some one say, "I do not think God hath forgotten
to be gracious except to me." Doth God make any exceptions? Doth he not
speak universally when he addresses his children? Remember, if God forgot
to be gracious to one of his believing people he might forget to be
gracious to them all. If there were one instance found in which his love
failed, then the foundations would be removed, and what could the
righteous do? The Good Shepherd doth not preserve some of his sheep, but
all of them; and it is not concerning the strong ones of his flock that
he saith, "I give unto my sheep eternal life, and they shall never
perish;" but he has said it of all the sheep, aye, and of the smallest
lamb of all the flock, of the most scabbed and wounded, of all that he
has purchased with his blood. The Lord hath not forgotten himself in any
one instance; but he is faithful to all believers.
Now, let us attend to the amendment of the question. Shall I tell
thee, friend, thou who hast put this question, what the true question is
which thou oughtest to ask thyself? It is not, "Hath God forgotten to be
gracious?" but "Hast thou forgotten to be grateful?" Why, thou enjoyest
many mercies even now. It is grace which allows thee to live after having
asked such a vile question. Grace is all around thee, if thou wilt but
open thine eyes, or thine ears. Thou hadst not been spared after so much
sin if God had forgotten to be gracious.
Listen: Hast thou not forgotten to be believing? God's word is
true, why dost thou doubt it? Is he a liar? Has he ever played thee
false? Which promise of his has failed? Time was when thou didst trust
him; then thou knewest he was gracious; but thou art doubting now without
just cause; thou art permitting an evil heart of unbelief to draw thee
aside from the living God. Know this, and repent of it, and trust thy
best Friend.
Hast thou not also forgotten to be reverent? Else how couldst
thou ask such a question? Should a man say of God that he has forgotten
to be gracious? Should he imagine such a thing? Should the keenest grief
drive to such profanity? Shall a living man complain, a man for the
punishment of his sins? Shall anyone of us begin to doubt that grace,
which has kept us out of the bottomless pit, and spared us to this hour?
Oh, heir of glory, favoured as thou hast been to bathe thy forehead in
the sunlight of heaven full often, and then to lean thy head on the
Saviour's bosom,--is it out of thy mouth that this question comes,--"Hath
God forgotten to be gracious"? Call it back and bow thine head unto the
dust, and say, "My Lord, have mercy upon thy servant, that he hath even
thought thus for an instant."
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Why, surely thou hast forgotten
thyself, or thou wouldest not talk so: thou hast forgotten that thou owest
everything to thy Lord, and art indebted to him even for the breath in thy
nostrils. Thou hast forgotten the precious blood of Jesus; thou hast
forgotten the mercy-seat; thou hast forgotten providence; thou hast
forgotten the Holy Spirit; thou hast forgotten all that the Lord has
done for thee: surely, thou hast forgotten all good things, or thou
wouldest not speak thus. Shake thyself from the dust; arise, and leave
the dunghill of thy despair, and sing, "His mercy endureth for ever." Say
in thy soul,--"Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him."
Thus much to the child of God. May the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, apply it
to every troubled heart.
II. Furthermore, I desire to talk a little with THE SEEKING SINNER IN
DESPONDENCY. You have not yet found joy and peace through believing, and
therefore I will first describe your case, and what it is that has made you
say, "Hath God forgotten to be gracious?"
You labour under a sense of guilt; you know that you have transgressed
against God, and you feel that this is a terrible thing, involving wrath to
the uttermost. The arrows of God are sticking in your soul, and rankling
there. You cannot trifle with sin as you once did; it burns like a fiery
poison in your veins! You have been praying to get rid of that sense of
sin, but it deepens. The case I am stating is very clear to every child of
God; but it is not at all clear to the man who is enduring it. He cries,
"The more I pray, the more I go to hear the word, the more I read the
Bible, the blacker sinner I seem to be. 'Hath God forgotten to be
gracious?'"
Moreover, a sense of weakness is increasing upon you. You thought
that you could pray; but now you cannot pray. You thought it the easiest
thing in the world to believe; but now the grappling-irons will not lay
hold upon the promise, and you find no rest. You cannot now perform those
holy acts which you once thought to be so easy. Your power is dried up,
your glory is withered. Now you groan out, "I would but I can't repent,
then all would easy be. Alas, I have no hope, no strength; I am reduced
to utter weakness." We understand all this, but you do not; and we do not
wonder at your crying,--"Hath God forgotten to be gracious." "Oh, but
sir, I have been crying to God that he would be pleased to deliver me
from sin, and the more I try to be holy the more I am tempted; I never
knew such horrible thoughts before, nor discovered such filthiness in my
nature before. When I get up in the morning I resolve that I will go
straight all the day, and before long I am more crooked than ever. I feel
worse rather than better. The world tempts me, the devil tempts me, the
flesh tempts me, everything goes wrong with me. 'Hath God forgotten to be
gracious'? I have prayed the Lord to give me peace, and he promises to
give rest; but I am more uneasy than ever, and cannot rest where I used
to do. I used to be very happy when I was at chapel on Sunday; I thought
I was doing well to be at public worship; but now I fear that I only go
as a formalist, and therefore I mock God, and make matters worse. I
rested once in being a teetotaller, in being a hard-working, honest,
sober man; but now I see that I must be born again. I used to rest once
in the idea that I was becoming quite religious; but now it seems to me
that my betterness is a hollow sham, and all my old nests are pulled
down.
My friend, I perfectly understand your case, and think well of
it; for the like has happened to many of us. You must be divorced from
self before you can be married to Christ; and that divorce must be made
most clear and plain, or Jesus will never make a match with you. You must
come clear away from self-righteousness, self-trust, self-hope, or else
one of these days, when Jesus has saved you, there might be a doubt as to
whether he is to have all the glory, or to go halves with self. He makes
you nothing that he may be all in all to you. He grinds you to the dust
that he may lift you out of it for ever. Meanwhile, I do not wonder that
the question crosses your mind, "Hath God forgotten to be gracious?"
Let me show how wrong the question is. "Hath God forgotten to be
gracious?" If he has, he has forgotten what he used to know right well.
David was foul with his adultery--remember that fifty-first Psalm--but
how sweet was the prophet's message to the penitent king: "The Lord hath
put away thy sin; thou shalt not die!" "Wash me, and I shall be whiter
than snow," was a prayer most graciously answered in that royal sinner's
case. Remember Jonah, and how he went down to the bottom of the mountains
in the whale's belly, and was brought even to hell's door; yet he lived
to sing "Salvation is of the Lord," and was brought out of the depths of
the sea. Remember Manasseh, who shed innocent blood very much, and yet
the grace of God brought him among thorns, and made him a humble servant
of the Lord. Remember Peter, how he denied his Master, but his Master
forgave him, and bade him feed his sheep. Forget not the dying thief, and
how in the extremity of death, filled with all the agonies of
crucifixion, he looked to the Lord, and the Lord looked on him, and that
day he was with the King in paradise. Think also of Saul of Tarsus, that
chief of sinners, who breathed out threatenings against the people of
God, and yet was struck down, and, before long was in mercy raised up
again, and ordained to be a chosen vessel to bear the gospel among the
heathen. If God has forgotten to be gracious, he has forgotten a line of
things in which he has wrought great wonders, and in which his heart
delighted from of old. It cannot be that he will turn away from that
which is so dear to him.
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Then why are all the old
arrangements for grace still standing? There is the mercy-seat; surely
that would have been taken away if God had forgotten to be gracious. The
gospel is preached to you, and this is its assurance, "Whosoever
believeth in him is not condemned." If the Lord had forgotten to be
gracious he would not have mocked you with empty words.
Our Lord Jesus Christ himself is still living, and still stands
as a priest to make intercession for transgressors. Would that be the
case if God had forgotten to be gracious? The Holy Spirit is still at
work convincing and converting; would that be so if God had forgotten to
be gracious? Oh brothers, while Calvary is still a fact, and the Christ
has gone into the glory bearing his wounds with him, there is a fountain
still filled with blood wherein the guilty may wash. While there is an
atoning sacrifice there must be grace for sinners. I cannot enlarge on
these points, for time flies so rapidly; but the continuance of the
divine arrangements, the continuance of the Son of God as living and
pleading, and the mission of the Holy Spirit as striving, regenerating,
comforting--all this proves that God hath not forgotten to be gracious.
Remember that God himself must according to nature be ever gracious so long
as men will put their trust in the great sacrifice. He has promised to be
gracious to all who confess their sins and forsake them and look to Christ;
and he cannot forget that word without a change which we dare not impute to
him. God might sooner forget to be than forget to be gracious to those to
whom he has promised his grace. He has promised to every poor, guilty,
confessing soul that will come and put his trust in Christ that he will be
gracious in pardoning sin, and so it must be.
I shall come to close quarters with you. I know your despair has
driven you to the question, "Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" and I
would silence it by putting other questions to you. Is it not you that
have forgotten to believe in Christ? "I have been praying," says one.
That is all very well, but the gospel is, "He that believeth and is
baptized shall be saved," not "he that prays." "I have been trying to
come to Christ." I know that, but I read nothing about this trying in
Holy Scripture, and I fear your trying is that which keeps you from
Jesus. You are told to believe in Christ, not to try to believe. A
minister in America, some time ago, was going up the aisle of his church
during a revival, when a young man earnestly cried to him, "Sir, can you
tell me the way to Christ?" "No," was the answer, very deliberately
given; "I cannot tell you the way to Christ." The young man answered, "I
beg pardon; I thought you were a minister of the gospel." "So I am," was
the reply. "How is it that you cannot tell me the way to Christ?" "My
friend," said the minister, "there is no way to Christ. He is himself the
way. All that believe in him are justified from all things. There is no
way to Christ; Christ is here." O! my hearer, Christ himself is the way
of salvation, and that way comes right down to your foot, and then leads
right up to heaven. You have not to make a way to the Way, but at once to
run in the way which lies before you. The way begins where you now are;
enter it. Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ now, and you are saved; and
then you will no more ask the question, "Is his mercy clean gone for
ever?"
"Oh," says one, "but I have been looking to reform myself and grow better,
and I have done a good deal in that way." That is not the gospel; it is all
very right and proper, but the gospel is, "He that believeth in him is not
condemned." The other day I saw my bees swarming; they hung on a branch of
a tree in a living mass; the difficulty was to get them into a hive. My man
went with his veil over his face and began to put them into the skep; and I
noticed that he was particularly anxious to get the queen bee into it; for
if he once had her in the hive the rest would be sure to follow, and remain
with her. Now, faith is the queen bee. You may get temperance, love, hope,
and all those other bees into the hive; but the main thing is to get simple
faith in Christ, and all the rest will come afterwards. Get the queen bee
of faith, and all the other virtues will attend her.
"Alas!" cries one, "I have been listening to the gospel for years." That is
quite right, for "faith cometh by hearing"; but recollect, we are not saved
by mere listening, nor even by knowing, unless we advance to believing. The
letter of the word is not life; it is the spirit of it which saves. When
tea was first introduced into this country a person favoured a friend with
a pound of it. It was exceedingly expensive, and when he met his friend
next, he enquired, "Have you tried the tea?" "Yes, but I did not like it at
all." "How was that? Everybody else is enraptured with it." "Why," said the
other, "we boiled it in a saucepan, threw away the water, and brought the
leaves to table; but they were very hard, and nobody cared for them." Thus
many people keep the leaves of form, and throw away the spiritual meaning.
They listen to our doctrines, but fail to come to Christ. They throw away
the true essence of the gospel, which is faith in Jesus. I pray you, do not
act thus with what I preach. Do not bury yourself in my words, or even in
the words of Scripture; but pass onward to the life and soul of their
meaning, which is Christ Jesus, the sinner's hope. All the aroma of the
gospel is in Christ; all the essence of the gospel is in Christ, and you
have only to trust him to enjoy eternal life. You guilty, worthless sinner,
you at the gates of hell, you who have nothing to recommend you, you who
have no good works or good feelings, simply trust the merits of Christ, and
accept the atonement made by his death, and you shall be saved, your sin
shall be forgiven, your nature shall be changed, you shall become a new
creature in Christ Jesus, and you shall never say again, "Hath God
forgotten to be gracious?"
III. The time has gone; therefore THE DISAPPOINTED WORKER must be content
with a few crumbs. You have been working for Christ, dear brother, and have
fallen in to a very low state of heart, so that you cry, "Hath God
forgotten to be gracious?" I know what state you are in.
You say, "I do not feel as if I could preach; the matter does not flow. I
do not feel as if I could teach; I search for instruction, and the more I
pull the more I cannot get it." "Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Can
he not fill thine empty vessel again? Can he not give thee stores of
thought, emotion, and language? He has used thee; can he not do so again?
"Ah, but my friends have gone; I am in a village from which the people
remove to London, and I lose my best helpers." Or, perhaps you say, "I
work in a back street, and everybody is moving out into the suburbs." You
have lost your friends, and they have forgotten you; but, "Hath God
forgotten to be gracious?" You can succeed so long as the Lord is with
you. Be of good courage; your best friend is left. He who made a speech
in the Academy found that all his hearers had gone except Plato; but as
Plato remained, the orator finished his address. They asked him how he
could continue under the circumstances, and he replied that Plato was
enough for an audience. So, if God be pleased with you, go on; the divine
pleasure is more than sufficient. "The Lord of hosts is with us; the God
of Jacob is our refuge." Did not Wesley say when he was dying, "The best
of all is, God is with us"? Therefore fear not the failure of friends.
"But, sir, the sinners I have to deal with are such tough ones:
they reject my testimony; they grow worse instead of better; I do not
think I can ever preach to them again." "Hath God forgotten to be
gracious?" You cannot save them, but he can. "But I work in such a
depraved neighbourhood, the people are sunk in poverty and drunkenness."
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Does not he know the way to save
drunkards? Does not he know how to rescue the harlot and the whoremonger,
and make them clean and chaste?
"Ah, but the church in which I labour is in a wretched state; the
members are worldly, lukewarm, and divided. I have no brethren around me
to pray for me, as you have; they are always squabbling and finding fault
with one another." That is a horrible business, but "Hath God forgotten
to be gracious?" Cannot God put you right, and your church right? If he
begins with you by strengthening your faith, may you not be the means of
healing all these divisions, and bringing these poor people into a better
state of mind, and then converting the sinners round about you? "Hath God
forgotten to be gracious?"
"Ah, well," saith one, "I am ready to give it all up." I hope you
will not do so. If you have made up your mind to speak no more in the
name of the Lord, I hope that word will be like fire in your bones; for
if God has not forgotten to be gracious, provoked as he has been, how can
you forget to be patient? Is it possible while God's sun shines on you
that you will refuse to shine on the fallen? If God continues to be
gracious, you ought not to grow weary in well-doing.
Perhaps I speak to some dear brother who is very old and infirm;
he can hardly hear, and scarcely see, so that he reads his Bible with
difficulty. He gets to the service now, but he knows that soon he will be
confined to his chamber, and then to his bed. His mind is sadly failing
him; he is quite a wreck. Take this home with you, my aged brother, and
keep it for your comfort if you never come out again: "Hath God forgotten
to be gracious?" Oh, no; the Lord hath said, "Even to your old age I am
he; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you: I have made, and I will
bear; even I will carry, and will deliver you." Having loved his own
which were in the world, the Lord Jesus loved them unto the end; and he
will love you to the end. When the last scene comes, and you close your
eyes in death, blessed be his name, you shall know that he has not
forgotten you. "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee," is the Lord's
promise, and his people's sheet-anchor. Therefore, let us not fear when
our frail tabernacles are taken down, but let us rejoice that God hath
not forgotten to be gracious. Though our bodies will sink into the dust,
they will ere long rise again, and we shall be in glory for ever with the
Lord. Blessed be his name. Amen.
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