Evening and Morning
By Charles Haddon Spurgeon
July 6
Morning
"Whoso hearkeneth
unto me shall dwell safely, and shall be quiet from fear of evil."—Proverbs 1:33.
Divine love is rendered
conspicuous when it I shines in the midst of judgments.
Fair is that lone star which smiles through the rifts of the thunder
clouds; bright is the oasis which blooms in the wilderness of sand; so
fair and so bright is love in the midst of wrath. When the Israelites provoked
the Most High by their continued idolatry, He punished them by withholding both
dew and rain, so that their land was visited by a sore famine; but while He did
this, He took care that His own chosen ones should be secure. If all other
brooks are dry, yet shall there be one reserved for Elijah; and when that
fails, God shall still preserve for him a place of sustenance; nay, not only
so, the Lord had not simply one "Elijah," but He had a remnant
according to the election of grace, who were hidden by fifties in a cave, and
though the whole land was subject to famine, yet these fifties in the cave were
fed, and fed from Ahab's table too by His faithful, God-fearing steward,
Obadiah. Let us from this draw the inference, that come what may, God's people
are safe. Let convulsions shake the solid earth, let the skies themselves be
rent in twain, yet amid the wreck of worlds the believer shall be as secure as
in the calmest hour of rest. If God cannot save His people under heaven,
He will save them in heaven. If the world becomes too hot to hold them,
then heaven shall be the place of their reception and their safety. Be ye then
confident, when ye hear of wars, and rumours of wars.
Let no agitation distress you, but be quiet from fear of evil. Whatsoever
cometh upon the earth, you, beneath the broad wings of Jehovah, shall be secure. Stay yourself upon His promise; rest in His
faithfulness, and bid defiance to the blackest future, for there is nothing in
it direful for you. Your sole concern should be to show forth to the world the
blessedness of hearkening to the voice of wisdom.
Evening
"How many are mine iniquities and
sins?"—Job 13:23.
Have you ever really
weighed and considered how great the sin of God's people is? Think how heinous
is your own transgression, and you will find that not only does a sin here and
there tower up like an alp, but that your iniquities are heaped upon each
other, as in the old fable of the giants who piled Pelian
upon Ossa, mountain upon mountain. What an aggregate of sin there is in the
life of one of the most sanctified of God's children! Attempt to multiply this,
the sin of one only, by the multitude of the redeemed, "a number which no
man can number," and you will have some conception of the great mass of
the guilt of the people for whom Jesus shed His blood. But we arrive at a more
adequate idea of the magnitude of sin by the greatness of the remedy provided.
It is the blood of Jesus Christ, God's only and well-beloved Son. God's Son!
Angels cast their crowns before Him! All the choral symphonies of heaven
surround His glorious throne. "God over all, blessed for ever. Amen."
And yet He takes upon Himself the form of a servant, and is scourged and
pierced, bruised and torn, and at last slain; since nothing but the blood of
the incarnate Son of God could make atonement for our offences. No human mind
can adequately estimate the infinite value of the divine sacrifice, for great as is the sin of God's people, the atonement which
takes it away is immeasurably greater. Therefore, the believer, even when sin
rolls like a black flood, and the remembrance of the past is bitter, can yet
stand before the blazing throne of the great and holy God, and cry, "Who
is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died; yea
rather, that hath risen again." While the recollection of his sin fills
him with shame and sorrow, he at the same time makes it a foil to show the
brightness of mercy—guilt is the dark night in which the fair star of
divine love shines with serene splendour.