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THE NEW PARK STREET PULPIT SERMONS VOLUME 1 (Sermons Nos. 1
Preface 1
THE NEW PARK STREET PULPIT
SERMONS
VOLUME 1
(Sermons Nos. 1-53)
Published in 1855 by Charles Spurgeon
PREFACE
The reaching of the word by the chosen servants of the
living God is the ordained means for the gathering in of the elect. It is not
the word read, so much as that which
is heard, which has the promise
attached to it, and hence the importance of a devout attendance in the ministry
of the gospel. Nevertheless, without doubt, the Holy Spirit who has helped us
in the delivery of these sermons, will also afford His divine assistance now
that we send them forth in this volume.
Little can be said in praise of these sermons, and nothing
can be said against them more bitter than has been already spoken. Happily the
author has heard abuse exhaust itself. He has seen its vocabulary used up, and
its utmost venom entirely spent, and yet the printed discourses have for that
very reason, found a readier sale, and more have been led to peruse them with
deep attention.
One thing alone places this book above contempt—and that
accomplishes the deed so triumphantly that the preacher defies the opinion of
man—it is the fact that to his certain knowledge, there is scarcely a sermon
here which has not been stamped by the hand of the Almighty by the conversion
of a soul. Some single sermons here brought into the society of their brethren,
have been, under God, the means of the salvation of not less than 20 souls—at
least, that number have come under the preacher’s notice from one sermon only,
and doubtless more shall be discovered at the last day.
This, together with the fact that hundreds of the children
of God have been made to leap for joy by their message, makes their author
invulnerable either to criticism or abuse!
We have most certainly departed from the usual mode of
preaching, but we do not feel bound to offer even half a word of apology for so
doing since we believe ourselves free to use any manner of speech which is
calculated to address the truths of God upon our hearers.
Volume 1 1
2 Preface
The matter, also,
will afford no small amount of food for controversialists, but concerning it,
we simply say that as we have learned theology in another school than that of
men, so shall we hope to always declare the whole of what the Lord shall teach
us, without tarrying for human opinions. The word Calvinism is frequently used here as the short word which embraces
that part of divine truth which teaches that salvation is by grace alone, but
it is not to be imagined that we attach any authority to the opinion of John
Calvin other than that which is due to every holy man who is ordained of God to
proclaim His Truth. We use the word simply for shortness of expression, and
because the enemies of free grace will then be quite sure of what we mean. It
is our firm belief that what is commonly called Calvinism is neither more nor
less than the good old gospel of the Puritans, the martyrs, the apostles, and
of our Lord Jesus Christ!
Here the proud legalist, the conceited believer in the
unaided strength of man, and the self-exalting moralist will discover very
little suitable to their corrupt palate, and much to excite their enmity! But
the humbled sinner may possibly find words of comfort and the self-loathing
believer will perhaps obtain a glimpse of his Lord.
Our hope is that inferior matters in dispute will not so
much be regarded as “the things which we have spoken touching the king.” Jesus
is the truth. We believe in Him—not merely in His words. He, Himself, is doctor and doctrine,
revealer and Revelation, the illuminator and the light of men. He is exalted in
every word of truth because He is its sum and substance! He sits above the
gospel, like a prince on His own throne. Doctrine is most precious when we see
it distilling from His lips, and embodied in His person! Sermons are valuable
in proportion as they speak of Him
and point to Him; a Christless gospel
is no gospel, and a Christless discourse is the cause of merriment to devils.
The Holy Spirit, who has always been our sole instructor, we trust will teach
us more of Jesus until we comprehend with all saints what are the heights and
depths, and know the love of Christ which passes knowledge. Jesus! Jesus! Jesus
only have we labored to extol—may the Lord Himself succeed our endeavors!
The reader will perhaps remark considerable progress in
some of the sentiments here made public, particularly in the case of the
doctrine of the second coming of our Lord, but he will remember that he who is
learning the truth of God, will learn it by degrees, and if he teaches as he
learns, it is to be expected that his lessons will become fuller every day.
There are also many expressions which may provoke a
smile—but let it be remembered that every man has his moments when his lighter
feel-
2 Volume 1 Preface 3
ings indulge themselves and the preacher
must be allowed to have the same passions as his fellowmen. And since he lives
in the pulpit more than anywhere else, it is but natural that his whole man
should be developed there. Besides, he is not quite sure about a smile being a
sin, and at any rate, he thinks it less a crime to cause a momentary laughter
than a half-hour’s profound slumber.
With all its faults, the purchaser has bought this
book—and, as it was not warranted to be perfect, if he thinks ill of it, he
must make the best of his bargain—which can be done either by asking a blessing
on its reading to himself, or entreating greater light for his friend, the
preacher.
For the printer we must beg much allowance. The author
sufficiently scolds him for errata,
and the public may therefore forgive the more— especially since the sermons are
hastily printed week by week for thousands of eager applicants.
Let it be understood, until further notice, that no sermons
are genuine reports unless they bear the title, “THE NEW PARK STREET PULPIT” or
the names of, “ALABASTER AND PASSMORE,” or else the words, “AUTHORIZED BY MR.
SPURGEON.” Necessity compels us thus to act, since otherwise prints without our
revision or sanction are advertised, and no one can tell what is ours and what
another’s.
Grace, mercy and peace be with all the
saints,
From their servant in Jesus, C. H.
SPURGEON JANUARY, 1856.
Adapted from The C. H. Spurgeon Collection, Version
1.0, Ages Software.
PRAY THE HOLY SPIRIT WILL USE
THIS SERMON TO BRING MANY TO A SAVING KNOWLEDGE OF JESUS CHRIST!
By the
Grace of God, for all 63 volumes of
C. H. Spurgeon sermons in
Modern English, and 574 Spanish translations, visit:
www.spurgeongems.org
Volume 1 3
Our First Sermon 1
OUR FIRST SERMON
BY C. H. SPURGEON
WE remember well the first place in which we addressed a
congregation of adults, and the wood-block which illustrates this number of the
magazine sets it clearly before our mind’s eye. It was not our first public
address by a great many, for both at New Market and Cambridge, and elsewhere,
the Sunday school had afforded us ample scope for speaking the gospel. At
Newmarket especially, we had a considerable admixture of grown-up folks in the
audience, for many came to hear “the boy” give addresses to the school. But no
regular set discourse to a congregation met for regular worship had we
delivered till one eventful Sunday evening which found us in a cottage at
Teversham, holding forth before a little assembly of humble villagers.
The tale is not a new one, but as the engraving has not
before been seen by the public eye we must shed a little light upon it. There
is a Preachers’ Association in Cambridge connected with St. Andrew’s Street
Chapel—once the scene of the ministry of Robert Robinson and Robert Hall—and
now of our beloved friend, Mr. Tarn. A number of worthy brothers preach the
gospel in the various villages surrounding Cambridge, taking, each one his
turn, according to plan. In our day the presiding genius was the venerable Mr.
James Vinter, whom we were known to address as “Bishop Vinter.” His genial
soul, warm heart, and kindly manner were enough to keep a whole fraternity
stocked with love, and accordingly, a goodly company of true workers belonged
to the Association, and labored as true yoke fellows. Our suspicion is that he
not only preached, himself, and helped his brothers, but that he was a sort of
recruiting sergeant, and drew in young men to keep up the number of the host—at
least we speak from personal experience as to one case.
We had one Saturday finished morning school, and the boys
were all going home for the half-holiday, when in came the aforesaid “Bishop.”
A man was to preach there who was not much used to services, and very likely
would be glad of company. That was a cunningly devised sentence, if we remember
it rightly, and we think we do, for at the time, in the light of that Sunday
evening’s revelation, we turned it over and vastly admired its ingenuity. A
request to go and preach would have met with a decided negative, but merely to
act as company to a good brother who did not like to be lonely, and, perhaps
might ask us to give out a hymn or to pray, was not at all a difficult matter!
And the request, understood in that fashion, was cheerfully complied with.
Little did the lad know what Jonathan and David were doing when he was made to
run for the arrow—and
Our First Sermon 1 2 Our First Sermon
as little knew we—when we were cajoled into
accompanying a young man to Teversham!
Our Sunday school work was over, and tea had been taken. We
set off through Barnwell along the Newmarket road with a gentleman some few
years our senior. We talked of good things, and at last we expressed our hope
that he would feel the presence of God while preaching. He seemed to start and
assured us that he had never preached in his life, and could not attempt such a
thing—he was looking to his young friend, Mr. Spurgeon, for that! This was a
new view of the situation, and I could only reply that I was no minister, and
that even if I had been, I was quite unprepared. My companion only repeated
that he, even in a more emphatic
sense, was not a preacher, that he would help me in any other part of the service, but that there would be no
sermon unless I gave them one! He told me that if I repeated one of my Sunday
school addresses, it would just suit the poor people, and would probably give
them more satisfaction than the studied sermon of a learned divine. I felt that
I was fairly committed to do my best. I walked along quietly, lifting up my
soul to God, and it seemed to me that I could surely tell a few poor cottagers
of the sweetness and love of Jesus—for I felt them in my own soul. Praying for
divine help, I resolved to make an attempt. My text would be, “Unto you,
therefore, which believe, He is precious,” and I would trust the Lord to open
my mouth in honor of His dear Son. It seemed a great risk and a serious trial,
but depending upon the power of the Holy Spirit, I would at least tell out the
story of the cross, and not allow the people to go home without a word.
We entered the low-pitched room of the thatched cottage
where a few simple-minded farm laborers and their wives were gathered together.
We sang, and prayed, and read the Scriptures—and then came our first sermon. How
long or how short it was, we cannot now remember; it was not half such a task
as we had feared it would be, but we were glad to see our way to a fair
conclusion, and to the giving out of the last hymn. To our own delight we had
not broken down, nor stopped short in the middle, nor been destitute of ideas,
and the desired haven was in view! We made a finish, and took up the Bible, but
to our astonishment an aged voice cried out, “Bless your dear heart, how old
are you?” Our very solemn reply was, “You must wait till the service is over
before making any such inquiries. Let us now sing.” We did sing, and the young
preacher pronounced the benediction, and then began a dialog which enlarged
into a warm friendly talk in which everybody appeared to take part. “How old
are you?” was the leading question. “I am under sixty,” was the reply. “Yes,
and under sixteen,” was the old lady’s rejoinder. “Never mind my age, think of
the Lord Jesus and His preciousness,” was all that I could
2
Our First
Sermon
Our
First Sermon
3
say, after promising to come again if the
gentlemen at Cambridge thought me fit to do so. Very great and profound was our
awe of those “gentlemen at Cambridge” in those days.
Are there not other young men who might begin to speak for
Jesus in some such lowly fashion—young men who up to now have been mute as
fishes? Our villages and hamlets offer fine opportunities for youthful
speakers; let them not wait till they are invited to a chapel, or have prepared
a fine essay, or have secured an intelligent audience! If they will go and tell
out from their hearts what the Lord Jesus has done for them, they will find
ready listeners!
Many of our young folks want to do great things, and
therefore do nothing at all! Let none of our readers become the victims of such
an unreasonable ambition! He who is willing to teach infants, or to give away
tracts, and so to begin at the beginning, is far more likely to be useful than
the youth who is full of affectations and sleeps in a white necktie, who is
studying for the ministry, and is touching up certain superior manuscripts
which he hopes before long, to read from the pastor’s pulpit. He who talks upon
plain gospel themes in a farmer’s kitchen, and is able to interest the carter’s
boy, and the dairymaid, has more of the minister in him than the prim little
man who talks forever about being cultured— and means by that being taught to
use words which nobody can understand! To make the very poorest listen with
pleasure and profit is in itself an achievement—and beyond this it is the best
possible promise and preparation for an influential ministry! Let our younger
brothers go in for cottage preaching and plenty of it! If there is no Lay
Preachers’ Association, let them work by themselves! The expense is not very
great for rent, candles, and a few forms—many a young man’s own pocket-money
would cover it all. No isolated group of houses should be left without its
preaching room, no hamlet without its evening service.
This is the lesson of the thatched cottage
at Teversham.
Adapted from The C. H. Spurgeon Collection, Version
1.0, Ages Software.
PRAY THE
HOLY SPIRIT WILL USE THIS SERMON
TO BRING
MANY TO A SAVING KNOWLEDGE OF JESUS CHRIST!
By the
Grace of God, for all 63 volumes of
C. H. Spurgeon sermons in
Modern English, and 574 Spanish translations, visit:
www.spurgeongems.org
Our First Sermon www.spurgeongems.org 3
Sermon #1 The New
Park Street Pulpit
THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD
NO. 1
A SERMON
DELIVERED ON SABBATH MORNING, JANUARY 7, 1855,
BY THE REV. C. H. SPURGEON, AT NEW PARK STREET CHAPEL, SOUTHWARK.
“I am the Lord, I change not; therefore you sons of Jacob are not
consumed.” Malachi 3:6.
IT has been said by someone that “the proper study of
mankind is man.” I will not oppose the idea, but I believe it is equally true
that the proper study of God’s elect is God. The proper study of a Christian is
the Godhead. The highest science, the loftiest speculation, the mightiest philosophy
which can ever engage the attention of a child of God is the name, the nature,
the person, the work, the doings and the existence of the great God whom he
calls his Father. There is something exceedingly improving to the mind in a
contemplation of the divinity. It is a subject so vast, that all our thoughts
are lost in its immensity—so deep that our pride is drowned in its infinity.
Other subjects we can compass and grapple with—in them we feel a kind of
self-content and go our way with the thought, “Behold I am wise.” But when we
come to this master science, finding that our plumb line cannot sound its depth
and that our eagle eye cannot see its height, we turn away with the thoughts
that vain man would be wise, but he is like a wild ass’ colt and with the
solemn exclamation, “I am but of yesterday and know nothing.” No subject of
contemplation will tend more to humble the mind, than thoughts of God.
We shall be obliged to feel—
“Great God, how infinite are You, What worthless worms are we!”
But while the subject humbles
the mind it also expands it. He
who often thinks of God will have a larger mind than the man who simply plods
around this narrow globe. He may be a naturalist, boasting of his ability to
dissect a beetle, anatomize a fly, or arrange insects and animals in classes
with well-nigh unutterable names. He may be a geologist, able to discourse of
the megatherium and the plesiosaurus and all kinds of extinct animals. He may
imagine that his science, whatever it is, ennobles and enlarges his mind. I
dare say it does, but after all, the most excellent study for expanding the
soul is the science of Christ and Him crucified and the knowledge of the
Godhead in the glorious Trinity. Nothing will so enlarge the intellect, nothing
so magnify the whole soul of man as a devout, earnest, continued investigation
of the great subject of the Deity. And while humbling and expanding, this
subject is eminently consolatory. Oh,
there is, in contemplating Christ, a balm for every wound! In musing on the
Father, there is a quietus for every grief and in the influence of the Holy
Spirit there is a balsam for every sore. Would you lose your sorrows? Would you
drown your cares? Then go plunge yourself in the Godhead’s deepest sea—be lost
in His immensity. And you shall come forth as from a couch of rest, refreshed
and invigorated. I know nothing which can so comfort the soul, so calm the
swelling billows of grief and sorrow—so speak peace to the winds of trial—as a
devout musing upon the subject of the Godhead. It is to that subject that I
invite you this morning. We shall present you with one view of it—that is the immutability of the glorious Jehovah.
“I am,” says my text, “Jehovah,” (for so it should be translated) “I am
Jehovah, I change not; therefore you sons of Jacob are not consumed.”
There are three things this morning. First of all, an unchanging God. Secondly, the persons who derive benefit from this
glorious attribute, “the sons of Jacob.” And thirdly, the benefit they so derive, they “are not consumed.” We address
ourselves to these points.
I. First let us
set before us the doctrine of the immutability of God. “I am God, I change
not.” Here I shall attempt to expound, or rather to enlarge the thought and
then afterwards to bring a few arguments to prove its truth.
1. I shall offer
some exposition of my text by first saying that God is Jehovah and He changes
not in His essence. We cannot tell
you what Godhead is. We do not know what substance that is which we call God.
It is an existence, it is a being. But what that is we know not. However,
whatever it is, we call it His essence and that essence never changes. The
substance of mortal things is ever changing. The mountains with their
snow-white crowns doff their old diadems in summer, in rivers trickling down
their sides, while the storm cloud gives them another coronation. The ocean,
with its mighty floods, loses its water when the sunbeams kiss the waves and
snatch them in mists to Heaven. Even the sun himself requires fresh fuel from
the hand of the infinite Almighty to replenish his ever-burning furnace. All
creatures change. Man, especially as to his body, is always undergoing
revolution. Very probably there is not a single particle in my body which was
in it a few years ago. This frame has been worn away by activity, its atoms
have been removed by friction, fresh particles of matter have in the meantime
constantly accrued to my body and so it has been replenished—its substance is
altered. The fabric of which this world is made is ever passing away like a
stream of water— drops are running away and others are following after, keeping
the river still full—but always changing in its elements. But God is
perpetually the same. He is not composed of any substance or material, but is
Spirit— pure, essential and ethereal Spirit—and, therefore, He is immutable. He
remains everlastingly the same. There are no furrows on His eternal brow. No
age has palsied Him—no years have marked Him with the mementoes of their
flight. He sees ages pass, but with Him it is ever now. He is the great I AM—the Great Unchangeable. Mark you, His
essence did not undergo a change when it became united with the manhood. When
Christ in past years did gird Himself with mortal clay, the essence of His
divinity was not changed—flesh did not become God, nor did God become flesh by
a real actual change of nature. The two were united in hypostatical union, but
the Godhead was still the same. It was the same when He was a babe in the
manger, as it was when He stretched the curtains of Heaven—it was the same God
that hung upon the Cross and whose blood flowed down in a purple river. The
self-same God that holds the world upon His everlasting shoulders and bears in
His hands the keys of death and Hell. He never has been changed in His essence,
not even by His incarnation—He remains everlastingly, eternally, the one
unchanging God, the Father of lights, with whom there is no variableness,
neither the shadow of a change.
He changes not in His
attributes. Whatever the attributes of God were of old, they are the same
now. And of each of them we may sing, As it was in the beginning, is now and
ever shall be, world without end, Amen. Was He powerful? Was He the mighty God when He spoke the world out of the
womb of non-existence? Was He the omnipotent when He piled the mountains and
scooped out the hollow places for the rolling deep? Yes, He was powerful then
and His arm is unpalsied now. He is the same giant in His might. The sap of His
nourishment is still wet and the strength of His soul stands the same forever.
Was He wise when He constituted this mighty globe, when He laid the foundations
of the universe? Had He wisdom when
He planned the way of our salvation and when, from all eternity, He marked out
His awful plans? Yes and He is wise now. He is not less skillful, He has not
less knowledge. His eyes which see all things are undimmed. His ears which hear
all the cries, sighs, sobs and groans of His people, are not rendered heavy by
the years which He has heard their prayers. He is unchanged in His wisdom. He
knows as much now as ever—neither more nor less. He has the same consummate
skill and the same infinite forecasting. He is unchanged, blessed be His name,
in His justice. Just and holy was He
in the past—just and holy is He now. He is unchanged in His truth—He has promised and He brings it
to pass. He has said it and it shall be done. He varies not in the goodness, generosity and benevolence of
His nature. He is not become an almighty tyrant, whereas He was once an
almighty Father. His strong love stands like a granite rock unmoved by the
hurricanes of our iniquity. And blessed be His dear name, He is unchanged in
His love. When He first wrote the
covenant, how full His heart was with affection to His people. He knew that His
Son must die to ratify the articles of that agreement. He knew right well that
He must rend His best Beloved from His heart, and send Him down to earth to
bleed and die. He did not hesitate to sign that mighty covenant. Nor did He
shun its fulfillment. He loves as much now as He did then. And when suns shall
cease to shine and moons to show their feeble light, He still shall love on
forever and forever. Take any one attribute of God and I will write semper idem on it (always the same).
Take any one thing you can say of God, now, and it may be said not only in the
dark past, but in the bright future. It shall always remain the same—“I am
Jehovah, I change not”—impressed on His heart it remains.
Then again, God changes not in His plans. That man began to build, but was not able to finish and,
therefore, he changed his plan—as every wise man would do in such a case—he
built upon a smaller foundation and commenced again. But has it ever been said
that God began to build but was not able to finish? No. When He has boundless
stores at His command and when His own right hand would create worlds as
numerous as drops of morning dew, shall He ever stay because He has not power?
Or reverse, or alter, or disarrange His plan because He cannot carry it out?
“But,” say some, “perhaps God never had a plan.” Do you think God is more
foolish than yourself then, sir? Do you go to work without a plan? “No,” you
say, “I have always a scheme.” So has God. Every man has his plan and God has a
plan, too. God is a master mind— He arranged everything in His gigantic
intellect long before He did it— and once having settled it, mark you, He never
alters it. “This shall be done,” says He and the iron hand of destiny marks it
down and it is brought to pass. “This is My purpose,” and it stands, nor can
earth or Hell alter it. “This is My decree,” says He. Promulgate it angels—rend
it down from the gate of Heaven you devils. But you cannot alter the decree. It
shall be done. God alters not His plans—why should He? He is almighty, and
therefore can perform His pleasure. Why should He? He is the all-wise and,
therefore, cannot have planned wrongly. Why should He? He is the everlasting
God and, therefore, cannot die before His plan is accomplished. Why should He
change? You worthless atoms of existence, ephemera of the day! You creeping
insects upon this bay leaf of existence! You may change your plans, but He shall never, never change
His.
Then has He told me that His plan is to save me? If so, I am safe—
“My name from the palms of His hands
Eternity will not erase;
Impressed on His heart it remains, In marks of indelible grace.”
Yet again, God is unchanging in His promises. Ah, we love to speak about the sweet promises of God. But
if we could ever suppose that one of them could be changed—we would not talk
anything more about them. If I thought that the notes of the bank of England
could not be cashed next week, I would decline to take them and if I thought
that God’s promises would never be fulfilled—if I thought that God would see it
right to alter some word in His promises—farewell Scriptures! I want immutable
things—and I find that I have immutable promises when I turn to the Bible—for, “by
two immutable things in which it is impossible for God to lie,” He has signed,
confirmed and sealed every promise of His. The Gospel is not “yes and no,” it
is not promising today and denying tomorrow. The Gospel is “yes, yes,” to the
glory of God. Believer, there was a delightful promise which you had
yesterday—and this morning when you turned to the Bible the promise was not
sweet. Do you know why? Do you think the promise had changed? Ah, no, you changed—that is where the matter
lies. You had been eating some of the grapes of Sodom and your mouth was
thereby put out of taste and you could not detect the sweetness. But there was
the same honey there, depend upon it—the same preciousness. “Oh,” says one
child of God, “I had built my house firmly once upon some stable promises.
There came a wind and I said, O Lord, I am cast down and I shall be lost.” Oh,
the promises were not cast down. The
foundations were not removed. It was your little “wood, hay, stubble” hut that
you had been building. It was that
which fell down. You have been shaken
on the rock, not the rock under you. But let me tell you what is the best way of living in
the world. I have heard that a gentleman said to a Negro, “I can’t think how it
is you are always so happy in the Lord and I am often downcast.” “Why massa,”
said he, “I throw myself flat down on the promise—there I lie. You stand on the
promise— you have a little to do with it and down you go when the wind comes.
And then you cry, ‘Oh, I am down.’ Whereas I go flat on the promise at once and
that is why I fear no fall.” Then let us always say, “Lord, there is the
promise. It is Your business to fulfill it.” Down I go on the promise flat! No
standing up for me. That is where you should go—prostrate on the promise. And
remember, every promise is a rock, an unchanging thing. Therefore, at His feet
cast yourself and rest there forever!
But now comes one jarring note to spoil the theme. To some
of you God is unchanging in His threats.
If every promise stands fast and every oath of the covenant is fulfilled, hark
you, Sinner—mark the word—hear the death knell of your carnal hopes! See the
funeral of the fleshy trusting. Every threat of God, as well as every promise
shall be fulfilled. Talk of decrees! I will tell you of a decree —“He that believes not shall be damned.” That is a
decree and a statute that can never change. Be as good as you please, be as
moral as you can, be as honest as you will, walk as uprightly as you may—there
stands the unchangeable threat—
“He that believes not shall be
damned.”
What do you say to that, moralist? Oh, you wish you could
alter it and say, “He that does not live a holy life shall be damned.” That
will be true. But it does not say so. It says, “He that believes not.” Here is
the stone of stumbling and the rock of offense. But you cannot alter it—you
either believe or be damned, says the Bible. And mark—that threat of God is as
unchangeable as God Himself. And when a thousand years of Hell’s torments shall
have passed away you shall look on high and see written in burning letters of
fire, “He that believes not shall be
damned.”
“But, Lord, I am damned.”
Nevertheless it says “shall be”
still. And when a million years have rolled away and you are exhausted by your
pains and agonies, you shall turn up your eye and still read “SHALL BE DAMNED,”
unchanged, unaltered. And when you shall have thought that eternity must have
spun out its last thread—that every particle of that which we call eternity
must have run out, you shall still see it written up there, “SHALL BE DAMNED.”
O terrible thought! How dare I utter it? But I must. You must be warned, sirs,
“lest you also come into this place of torment.” You must be told rough things,
for if God’s gospel is not a rough thing, believe me, the law is a rough thing.
Mount Sinai is a rough thing. Woe unto the watchman that
warns not the ungodly! God is unchanging in His threats. Beware, O sinner, for
“it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.”
We must just hint at one thought before we pass on and that
is—God is unchanging in the objects of
His love—not only in His love, but in the objects of it—
“If ever it should come to pass That sheep of Christ might fall away,
My fickle, feeble soul, alas,
Would fall a thousand times a day.”
If one dear saint of God had perished, so
might all. If one of the covenant ones is lost, so may all be and then there is
no gospel promise true. Then the Bible is a lie and there is nothing in it
worth my acceptance. I will be an infidel at once, when I can believe that a
saint of God can ever fall finally. If God has loved me once, then He will love
me forever—
“Did Jesus once upon me shine, Then Jesus is forever mine.”
The objects of everlasting love never change. Those whom
God has called, He will justify. Whom He has justified, He will sanctify. And
whom He sanctifies, He will glorify.
2. Thus having
taken a great deal too much time, perhaps, in simply expanding the thought of
an unchanging God, I will now try to prove that HE IS UNCHANGEABLE. I am not
much of an argumentative preacher, but one argument that I will mention is
this—the very existence and being of a
God seem to me to imply immutability. Let me think a moment. There is a
God. This God rules and governs all things—this God fashioned the world—He
upholds and maintains it. What kind of being must He be? It does strike me that
you cannot think of a changeable God.
I conceive that the thought is so repugnant to common sense that if you for one
moment think of a changing God, the words seem to clash and you are obliged to
say, “Then He must be a kind of man,” and you have a Mormonism idea of
God!
I imagine it is impossible to conceive of a changing God.
It is so to me. Others may be capable of such an idea, but I could not
entertain it. I could no more think of a changing God than I could of a round
square, or any other absurdity. The thing seems so contrary that I am obliged,
when once I say, God, to include the idea of an unchanging being.
Well, I think that one argument will be enough, but another
good argument may be found in the fact of God’s
perfection. I believe God to be a perfect being. Now, if He is a perfect
being, He cannot change. Do you not see this? Suppose I am perfect today. If it
were possible for me to change, should I be perfect tomorrow after the
alteration? If I changed, I must either change from a good state to a
better—and then if I could get better, I could not be perfect now—or else from a better state to a
worse—and if I were worse, I should not be perfect then. If I am perfect, I cannot be altered without being imperfect.
If I am perfect today, I must be the same tomorrow if I am to be perfect then.
So, if God is perfect, He must be the same—for change would imply imperfection
now or imperfection then.
Again, there is the fact of God’s infinity, which puts change out of the question. God is an
infinite being. What do you mean by that? There is no man who can tell you what
he means by an infinite being. But there cannot be two infinities. If one thing
is infinite, there is no room for anything else—for infinite means all. It
means not bounded, not finite, having no end. Well, there cannot be two
infinities. If God is infinite, today, and then should change and be infinite
tomorrow, there would be two infinities. But that cannot be.
Suppose He is infinite and then changes, He must become
finite and could not be God—either He is finite today and finite tomorrow, or
infinite today and finite tomorrow, or finite today and infinite tomorrow—all
of which suppositions are equally absurd. The fact of His being an infinite
being at once quashes the thought of His being a changeable being. Infinity has
written on its very brow the word “immutability.”
But then, dear friends, let us look at the past—and there we shall gather some proofs of God’s immutable
nature. “Has He spoken and has He not done it? Has He sworn and has it not come
to pass?” Can it not be said of Jehovah, He has done all His will and He has
accomplished all His purpose?” Turn you to Philistia—ask where she is. God
said, “Howl Ashdod and you gates of Gaza, for you shall fall,” and where are
they? Where is Edom? Ask Petra and its ruined walls. Will they not echo back
the truth that God has said, “Edom shall be a prey and shall be destroyed”?
Where is Babel and where is Nineveh? Where is Moab and where is Ammon? Where
are the nations God has said He would destroy? Has He not uprooted them and
cast out the remembrance of them from the earth?
And has God cast off His people? Has He once been unmindful
of His promise? Has He once broken His oath and covenant, or once departed from
His plan? Ah, no. Point to one instance in history where God has changed! You
cannot, sirs—for throughout all history there stands the fact—God has been
immutable in His purposes. I think I hear someone say, “I can remember one
passage in Scripture where God changed!” And so did I think, once. The case I
mean is that of the death of Hezekiah. Isaiah came in and said, “Hezekiah, you
must die, your disease is incurable, set your house in order.”
He turned his face to the wall and began to pray. And
before Isaiah was in the outer court, he was told to go back and say, “You
shall live fifteen years more.” You may think that proves that God changes. But
really, I cannot see in it the slightest proof in the world. How do you know
that God did not know that? Oh, but God did
know it—He knew that Hezekiah would live. Then He did not change, for if He
knew that, how could He change? That is what I want to know. But do you know
one little thing?—that Hezekiah’s son Manasseh was not born at that time. And
had Hezekiah died there would have been no Manasseh and no Josiah and no
Christ, because Christ came from that very line!
You will find that Manasseh was 12 years old when his
father died—so that he must have been born three years after this. And do you
not believe that God decreed the birth of Manasseh and foreknew it? Certainly.
Then He decreed that Isaiah should go and tell Hezekiah that his disease was
incurable and then say also in the same breath, “But I will cure it and you
shall live.” He said that to stir up Hezekiah to prayer. He spoke, in the first
place as a man. “According to all human probability your disease is incurable
and you must die.” Then He waited till Hezekiah prayed—then came a little “but”
at the end of the sentence.
Isaiah had not finished the sentence. He said, “You must
put your house in order for there is no human cure—but” (and then he walked
out. Hezekiah prayed a little and then he came in again and said) “But I will heal you.” Where is there any
contradiction there, except in the brain of those who fight against the Lord
and wish to make Him a changeable being?
II. Now let me
say a word on THE PERSONS TO WHOM THIS UNCHANGEABLE GOD IS A BENEFIT. “I am God
I change not; therefore you sons of Jacob are not consumed.” Now, who are “the
sons of Jacob”? Who can rejoice in an immutable God?
First, they are the sons
of God’s election. For it is written, “Jacob have I loved and Esau have I
hated, the children being not yet born, neither having done good nor evil.” It
was written, “The elder shall serve the younger.” “The sons of Jacob—
“Are the sons of God’s election, Who through sovereign grace believe;
By eternal destination
Grace and glory they receive.”
God’s elect
are here meant by “the sons of Jacob”—those whom He foreknew and foreordained
to everlasting salvation!
By “the sons of Jacob” are meant, in the second place, persons who enjoy peculiar rights and titles.
Jacob, you know, had no rights by birth, but he soon acquired them. He
exchanged a mess of pottage with his brother, Esau, and thus gained the
birthright. I do not justify the means. But he did also obtain the blessing and
so acquired peculiar rights. By “the sons of Jacob” is meant persons who have
peculiar rights and titles. Unto them who believe, He has given the right and
power to become sons of God. They have an interest in the blood of Christ. They
have a right to “enter in through the gates into the city”—they have a title to
eternal honors. They have a promise to everlasting glory. They have a right to
call themselves sons of God. Oh, there are peculiar rights and privileges
belonging to the “sons of Jacob.”
Next, these “sons of Jacob” were men of peculiar manifestations. Jacob had had peculiar
manifestations from his God and thus he was highly honored. Once at night he
lay down and slept. He had the hedges for his curtains, the sky for his canopy,
a stone for his pillow and the earth for his bed. Oh, then he had a peculiar
manifestation. There was a ladder and he saw the angels of God ascending and
descending. He thus had a manifestation of Christ Jesus as the ladder which
reaches from earth to Heaven—up and down which angels came to bring us mercies.
Then what a manifestation there was at Mahanaim when the angels of God met
him—and again at Peniel, when He wrestled with God and saw Him face to face.
Those were peculiar manifestations—and this passage refers to those who, like
Jacob, have had peculiar manifestations.
Now then, how many of you have had personal manifestations?
“Oh,” you say “that is enthusiasm—that is fanaticism.” Well, it is a blessed
enthusiasm, too, for the sons of Jacob have had peculiar manifestations. They
have talked with God as a man talks with his friend—they have whispered in the
ear of Jehovah. Christ has been with them to sup with them and they with
Christ. And the Holy Spirit has shone into their souls with such a mighty
radiance that they could not doubt about special manifestations. The “sons of
Jacob” are the men who enjoy these manifestations.
Then again, they are men
of peculiar trials. Ah, poor Jacob! I should not choose Jacob’s lot if I
had not the prospect of Jacob’s blessing. For a hard lot his was. He had to run
away from his father’s house to Laban’s—and then that surly old Laban cheated
him all the years he was there—cheated him of his wife, cheated him in his
wages, cheated him in his flocks and cheated him all through the story.
By-and-by he had to run away from Laban who pursued him and overtook him. Next
came Esau with four hundred men to cut him up root and branch. Then there was a
season of prayer and afterwards he wrestled God—and had to go all his life with
his thigh out of joint. And a little further on, Rachel, his dearly beloved,
died. Then his daughter Dinah is led astray and the sons murder the
Shechemites. Then his dear son, Joseph, is sold into Egypt and a famine comes.
Then Reuben goes up to his couch and pollutes it— Judah commits incest with his
own daughter-in-law and all his sons become a plague to him. At last Benjamin
is taken away and the old man, almost broken-hearted, cries, “Joseph is not and
Simeon is not and you will take Benjamin away?” Never was man more tried than
Jacob—all through the one sin of cheating his brother! All through his life God
chastised him. But I believe there are many who can sympathize with dear old
Jacob. They have had to pass through trials very much like his. Well,
cross-bearers, God says, “I change not; therefore you sons of Jacob are not
consumed.” Poor tried Souls! You are not consumed because of the unchanging
nature of your God. Now do not get to fretting and say, with the self-conceit
of misery, “I am the man who has seen affliction.” Why “the Man of Sorrows” was
afflicted more than you! Jesus was indeed a mourner. You only see the skirts of
the garments of affliction. You never have trials like His. You do not
understand what troubles mean. You have hardly sipped the cup of trouble—you
have only had a drop or two, but Jesus drunk the dregs. Fear not, says God, “I
am the Lord, I change not; therefore you sons of Jacob,” men of peculiar
trials, “are not consumed.”
Then one more thought about who are the “sons of Jacob,”
for I should like you to find out whether you are “sons of Jacob,” yourselves.
They are men of peculiar character.
For though there were some things about Jacob’s character which we cannot
commend, there are one or two things which God commends. There was Jacob’s
faith, by which Jacob had his name written among the mighty worthies who
obtained not the promises on earth but shall obtain them in Heaven. Are you men
of faith, beloved? Do you know what it is to walk by faith, to live by faith,
to get your temporary food by faith, to live on spiritual manna—all by faith?
Is faith the rule of your life? If so, you are the “sons of Jacob.”
Then Jacob was a man of prayer—a man who wrestled and
groaned and prayed. There is a man up yonder who never prayed this morning,
before coming up to the House of God. Ah, you poor Heathen, don’t you pray?
“No!” he says, “I never thought of such a thing—for years I have not prayed.”
Well, I hope you may before you die. Live and die without prayer and you will
pray long enough when you get to Hell. There is a woman—she did not pray this
morning. She was so busy sending her children to the Sunday school she had no
time to pray. No time to pray? Had you time to dress? There is a time for every
purpose under Heaven and if you had purposed to pray, you would have prayed.
Sons of God cannot live without prayer. They are wrestling Jacobs. They are men
in whom the Holy Spirit so works that they can no more live without prayer than
I can live without breathing. They must pray. sirs, mark you, if you are living
without prayer, you are living without Christ. And dying like that, your
portion will be in the lake which burns with fire. God redeem you, God rescue
you from such a lot! But you who are “the sons of Jacob,” take comfort, for God
is immutable.
III. I can say
only a word about the other point—THE BENEFIT WHICH THESE “SONS OF JACOB”
RECEIVE FROM AN UNCHANGING GOD. “Therefore you sons of Jacob are not consumed.”
“Consumed?” How? How can man be consumed? Why, there are two ways. We might
have been consumed in Hell. If God had been a changing God, the “sons of Jacob”
here this morning, might have been consumed in Hell. But for God’s unchanging
love I should have been a stick in the fire. But there is a way of being
consumed in this world. There is such
a thing as being condemned before you
die—“condemned already.” There is such a thing as being alive and yet being
absolutely dead. We might have been left to our own devices—and then where
would we be now? Reveling with the drunkard, blaspheming Almighty God? Oh, had
He left you, dearly beloved, had He been a changing God—you had been among the
filthiest of the filthy and the vilest of the vile! Cannot you remember in your
life seasons similar to those I have felt? I have gone right to the edge of
sin— some strong temptation has taken hold of both my arms so that I could not
wrestle with it. I have been pushed along, dragged as by an awful Satanic power
to the very edge of some horrid precipice. I have looked down, down, down and
seen my portion. I quivered on the brink of ruin. I have been horrified, as,
with my hair upright, I have thought of the sin I was about to commit—the
horrible pit into which I was about to fall! A strong arm has saved me. I have
started back and cried, O God, could I have gone so near sin and yet come back
again? Could I have walked right up to the furnace and not fallen down, like
Nebuchadnezzar’s strong men, devoured by the very heat? Oh, is it possible I
should be here this morning, when I think of the sins I have committed and the
crimes which have crossed my wicked imagination? Yes, I am here, unconsumed,
because the Lord changes not. Oh, if He had changed, we should have been
consumed in a dozen ways. If the Lord had changed, you and I should have been
consumed by ourselves—for after all, Mr. Self is the worst enemy a Christian
has. We would have proved suicides to our own souls. We would have mixed the
cup of poison for our own spirits, if the Lord had not been an unchanging God
and dashed the cup out of our hands when we were about to drink it. Then we
would have been consumed by God, Himself, if He had not been a changeless God.
We call God a Father—but there is not a father in this world who would not have
killed all his children long ago, so provoked would he have been with them—if
he had been half as much troubled as God has been with His family. He has the
most troublesome family in the whole world— unbelieving, ungrateful,
disobedient, forgetful, rebellious, wandering, murmuring and stiff-necked.
Well, it is that He is long-suffering, or else He would have taken not only the
rod, but the sword to some of us long ago! But there was nothing in us to love
at first, so there cannot be less now. John Newton used to tell a whimsical
story and laugh at it, too, of a good woman who said, in order to prove the
doctrine of Election—“Ah, sir, the Lord must have loved me before I was born,
or else He would not have seen anything in me to love afterwards.” I am sure it
is true in my case and true in respect to most of God’s people. For there is
little to love in them after they are born. If He had not loved them before, He
would have seen no reason to choose them after—but since He loved them without
works, He still loves them without works. Since their good works did not win His affection, bad works cannot sever that affection—since their
righteousness did not bind His love to them, so their wickedness cannot snap
the golden links. He loved them out of pure sovereign grace and He will love
them still. But we should have been consumed by the devil and by our
enemies—consumed by the world, consumed by our sins, by our trials and in a
hundred other ways if God had ever changed!
Well, now, time fails us and I can say but little. I have
only just cursorily touched on the text. I now hand it to you. May the Lord
help you “sons of Jacob” to take home this portion of meat. Digest it well and
feed upon it. May the Holy Spirit sweetly apply the glorious things that are
written! And may you have “a feast of fat things, of wines on the lees well
refined!” Remember God is the same, whatever is removed. Your friends may be
disaffected, your ministers may be taken away, everything may change—but God
does not. Your brethren may change and cast out your name as vile—but God will
still love you! Let your station in life change and your property be gone. Let
your whole life be shaken and you become weak and sickly. Let everything flee
away—there is one place where change cannot put his finger. There is one name
on which mutability can never be written. There is one heart which never can
alter. That heart is God’s—that name Love—
“Trust Him, He will never deceive you.
Though you harshly of Him deem; He will never, never leave you, Nor
will let you quite leave Him.”
Adapted from The C. H. Spurgeon Collection, Version
1.0, Ages Software.
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- Jesus Christ is alive and living in the hearts and lives of billions of Christians. I am interested in what He is saying and doing in the lives of those who know and love Him and interested in being a familiar and trusted blogger about Him