Evening and Morning
By Charles
Haddon Spurgeon
September 13
Morning
"Who
passing through the valley of Baca make it a well, the rain also filleth the pools."—Psalm 84:6.
This teaches us that the comfort
obtained by a one may often prove serviceable to another; just as wells would
be used by the company who came after. We read some book full of consolation,
which is like Jonathan's rod, dropping with honey. Ah! we
think our brother has been here before us, and digged
this well for us as well as for himself. Many a "Night of Weeping,"
"Midnight Harmonies," an "Eternal Day," "A Crook in
the Lot," a "Comfort for Mourners," has been a well digged by a pilgrim for himself, but has proved quite as
useful to others. Specially we notice this in the
Psalms, such as that beginning, "Why art thou cast down, O my soul?"
Travellers have been delighted to see the footprint of man on a barren shore,
and we love to see the waymarks of pilgrims while passing through the vale of
tears.
The pilgrims dig the well,
but, strange enough, it fills from the top instead of the bottom. We use the
means, but the blessing does not spring from the means. We dig a well, but
heaven fills it with rain. The horse is prepared against the day of battle, but
safety is of the Lord. The means are connected with the end, but they do not of
themselves produce it. See here the rain fills the pools, so that the wells
become useful as reservoirs for the water; labour is
not lost, but yet it does not supersede divine help.
Grace may well be compared
to rain for its purity, for its refreshing and vivifying influence, for its coming alone from above, and for the sovereignty with
which it is given or withheld. May our readers have showers of blessing, and
may the wells they have digged be filled with water!
Oh, what are means and ordinances without the smile of heaven! They are as
clouds without rain, and pools without water. O God of love, open the windows
of heaven and pour us out a blessing!
Evening
"This
man receiveth sinners."—Luke 15:2.
Observe the
condescension of this fact. This Man, who towers above all other men, holy,
harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners—this Man receiveth sinners. This Man, who is no other than the
eternal God, before whom angels veil their faces—this Man receiveth sinners. It needs an angel's tongue to describe
such a mighty stoop of love. That any of us should be willing to seek
after the lost is nothing wonderful—they are of our own race; but that
He, the offended God, against whom the transgression has been committed, should
take upon Himself the form of a servant, and bear the sin of many, and should
then be willing to receive the vilest of the vile, this is marvellous.
"This Man receiveth sinners"; not, however, that they may remain
sinners, but He receives them that He may pardon their sins, justify their
persons, cleanse their hearts by His purifying word, preserve their souls by
the indwelling of the Holy Ghost, and enable them to serve Him, to show forth
His praise, and to have communion with Him. Into His heart's love He receives
sinners, takes them from the dunghill, and wears them as jewels in His crown;
plucks them as brands from the burning, and preserves them as costly monuments
of His mercy. None are so precious in Jesus' sight as the sinners for whom He
died. When Jesus receives sinners, He has not some out-of-doors reception
place, no casual ward where He charitably entertains them as men do passing
beggars, but He opens the golden gates of His royal heart, and receives the
sinner right into Himself—yea, He admits the humble penitent into
personal union and makes Him a member of His body, of His flesh, and of His
bones. There was never such a reception as this! This fact is still most sure
this evening, He is still receiving sinners: would to God sinners would receive
Him.