Evening and Morning
By Charles Haddon Spurgeon
August 8
Morning
"They
weave the spider's web."—Isaiah 59:5.
See the spider's web, and
behold in it a most suggestive picture of the hypocrite's religion. It is
meant to catch his prey: the spider fattens himself on flies, and the
Pharisee has his reward. Foolish persons are easily entrapped
by the loud professions of pretenders, and even the more judicious
cannot always escape. Philip baptized Simon Magus, whose guileful declaration
of faith was so soon exploded by the stern rebuke of Peter. Custom, reputation,
praise, advancement, and other flies, are the small game
which hypocrites take in their nets. A spider's web is a marvel of
skill: look at it and admire the cunning hunter's wiles. Is not a
deceiver's religion equally wonderful? How does he make so barefaced a lie
appear to be a truth? How can he make his tinsel answer so well the purpose of
gold? A spider's web comes all from the creature's own bowels. The bee
gathers her wax from flowers, the spider sucks no flowers, and yet she spins
out her material to any length. Even so hypocrites find their trust and hope
within themselves; their anchor was forged on their own anvil, and their cable
twisted by their own hands. They lay their own foundation, and hew out the
pillars of their own house, disdaining to be debtors to the sovereign grace of
God. But a spider's web is very frail. It is curiously wrought, but not
enduringly manufactured. It is no match for the servant's broom, or the
traveller's staff. The hypocrite needs no battery of Armstrongs
to blow his hope to pieces, a mere puff of wind will do it. Hypocritical
cobwebs will soon come down when the besom of destruction begins its purifying
work. Which reminds us of one more thought, viz., that such cobwebs are not
to be endured in the Lord's house: He will see to it that they and those
who spin them shall be destroyed for ever. O my soul, be
thou resting on something better than a spider's web. Be the Lord Jesus thine eternal hiding-place.
Evening
"All
things are possible to him that believeth."—Mark 9:23.
Many professed Christians
are always doubting and fearing, and they forlornly think that this is the
necessary state of believers. This is a mistake, for "all things are
possible to him that believeth"; and it is possible for us to mount into a
state in which a doubt or a fear shall be but as a bird of passage flitting
across the soul, but never lingering there. When you read of the high and sweet
communions enjoyed by favoured saints, you sigh and
murmur in the chamber of your heart, "Alas! these
are not for me." O climber, if thou hast but faith, thou shalt yet stand
upon the sunny pinnacle of the temple, for "all things are possible to him
that believeth." You hear of exploits which holy men have done for Jesus;
what they have enjoyed of Him; how much they have been like Him; how they have
been able to endure great persecutions for His sake; and you say, "Ah! as for me, I am but a worm; I can never attain to
this." But there is nothing which one saint was, that you may not be. There is no elevation of grace, no attainment of
spirituality, no clearness of assurance, no post of duty, which is not open to
you if you have but the power to believe. Lay aside your sackcloth and ashes,
and rise to the dignity of your true position; you are little in Israel because
you will be so, not because there is any necessity for it. It is not meet that
thou shouldst grovel in the dust, O child of a King.
Ascend! The golden throne of assurance is waiting for you! The crown of
communion with Jesus is ready to bedeck your brow. Wrap yourself in scarlet and
fine linen, and fare sumptuously every day; for if thou believest,
thou mayst eat the fat of kidneys of wheat; thy land
shall flow with milk and honey, and thy soul shall be satisfied as with marrow
and fatness. Gather golden sheaves of grace, for they await thee in the fields
of faith. "All things are possible to him that believeth."