CHARLES SPURGEON MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST
“But they made light of it, and went their ways, one the his farm,
another to his merchandise.” Matthew 22:5
MAN is not much changed since the days of Adam. In his bodily frame he
appears to be exactly similar, for skeletons many hundred years old are the
exact counterparts of ours; and sure enough that which was recorded in
history as having been done by man centuries ago, might be written again,
for “there is nothing new under the sun.” The same class of men is still to
be discovered (although, perhaps, differently dressed) as that which existed
ages long gone by. There are still men who answer the character given to
others, in his day, by the Savior “They go their way, one to his farm,
another to his merchandise,” making light of the glorious things of the
gospel. I am certain I have many such characters here to-night and I pray
the Lord that I may be enabled to discourse to them very solemnly and
very pointedly. And I must ask all you who understand the heavenly art of
prayer, to pray that God would be pleased to send home every thought into
the breast where he intends it to lodge, that it may bring forth the
comfortable fruit of righteousness in the salvation of many souls. “They
made light of it,” so do too many in this day; and so will a large portion of
my hearers to-night. I believe that to think lightly of Christ is a sin; and at
all risks of being falsely called legalist, or free-willer, by those who are wise
above what is written, I shall charge it upon you as such, for I hope I shall
never belong to that class of Calvinists who do the devil’s work by
excusing sinners in their sins.
In the first place, we shall have a few words with you, concerning what it is
that the sinner makes light of, secondly, how it is that he makes light of it;
and thirdly, why it is that he makes light of it. Then a general observation
or two, and we shall not weary you.
I. In the first place, WHAT IS IT THAT THE SINNER WAXES LIGHT OF?
According to the parable, the person alluded to made light of a marriage
banquet which a king had provided, with all kinds of dainties, to which
they were freely invited, and from which they wilfully absented themselves.
The spiritual meaning of this is easy to discover. Sinners who make light of
Christ express their contempt of a glorious banquet which God has
provided at the marriage of his Son. This is solemn ground to tread upon.
Oh! for the teachings of the Holy Spirit.
Taking this parable as the basis of our remarks, we may observe, first, that
the sinner makes light of the messenger who brings him the news that the
marriage supper is prepared. These men refused to come; they went —
“One to his farm, another to his merchandise,” and so made light of the
messenger; and every sinner who neglects the great salvation of Jesus
Christ, makes light of the gospel minister, which is no little insult in God’s
esteem. It is never reckoned a small offense by our great nation, if our
ambassador is treated with indifference, and take it for a truth, it is no light
thing with God if you despise the ambassadors he sends to you. But this is
comparatively little; the ambassadors are men like yourselves, who can well
afford to be contemned, if that were all. In fact, we should be glad enough
to forgive you if it were in our power to do so, and if this were all your
guilt.
But these people despised the feast. Some of them fancied that the fatlings,
and other provisions that would be upon the table, would be no better than
what they had at home. They thought that the royal banquet would be no
very great thing for which to give up their merchandise for a day, or to
renounce their farming even for an hour. They scorned the banquet, at
least, it appears so, because they did not go to it. Oh I sinner, when thou
neglectest the great salvation, remember what thou dost despise; when
thou makest light of God’s gospel, thou makest light of justification by
faith; thou makest light of washing in the blood of Jesus; thou makest light
of the Holy Spirit; thou makest light of the road to heaven; and then thou
makest light of faith, and hope, and love, thou makest light of all the
promises of the eternal covenant, of all the glorious things that God has
laid up for them that love him and of everything which he hath revealed in
his Word as being the promised gift to those who come unto him. It is a
solemn thing to make light of the gospel, for in that Word, God’s-spell —
good tidings, is summed up all that human nature can require, and all that
even the saints in bliss can receive. Oh! to despise the gospel of the blessed
God, how mad! how worse than folly! Despise the stars, and thou art a
fool; despise God’s earth, with its glorious mountains, with its flowing
rivers, and its fair meads, and thou art a maniac; but despise God’s gospel,
and thou art ten thousand maniacs in one. Make light of that, and thou art
far more foolish than he who sees no light in the sun, who beholds no
fairness in the moon, and no brilliancy in the starry firmament. Trample, if
you please, his lower works, but oh? remember, when you make light of
the gospel, you are making light of the masterpiece of your great Creator
— that which cost him more than to create myriad worlds — the bloody
purchase of our Savior’s agonies.
And, again, these people made light of the King’s Son. It was his marriage,
and inasmuch as they absented themselves, they did dishonor to that
glorious One in whose honor the supper was prepared. They slighted him
whom his Father loved. Ah! sinner, when thou makest light of the gospel,
thou makest light of Christ — of that Christ before whom glorious cherubs
bow themselves — of that Christ at whose feet the high archangel thinks it
happiness to cast his crown; thou makest light of him with whose praise the
vault of heaven rings, thou makest light of him whom God makes much of,
for he has called him, “God over all, blessed for ever.” Ah! it is a solemn
thing to make light of Christ. Despise a prince, and ye shall have little
honor at the king’s hand for it; but despise the Son of God, and the Father
will have vengeance on you for his slighted Son. Oh! my dear friends, it
seems to me to be a sin, not unpardonable, I know, but still most heinous,
that men should ever despise my blessed Lord Jesus Christ and treat him
with cruel scorn. Make light of thee, sweet Jesus! Oh! when I see thee with
thy shirt of gore, wrestling in Gethsemane, I bow myself o’er thee, and I
say, “O, Redeemer, bleeding for sin, can any sinner make light of thee?”
When I behold him with a river of blood rolling down his shoulder, beneath
the cursed flagellation of Pilate’s whip, I ask. “Can a sinner make light of
such a Savior as this?” And when I see him yonder, covered with his blood,
nailed to a tree, expiring in torture, shrieking, “Eli, Eli, lame sabachthani,” I
ask myself, “Can any make light of this?” Ay, if they do, then, indeed, it
were sin enough to damn them, if they have no other sin — that they have
lightly esteemed the Prince of Peace, who is glorious and altogether lovely.
Oh! my friend, if thou makest light of Christ, thou hast insulted the only
one who can save thee — the only one who can bear thee across the
Jordan — the only one who can unbolt the gates of heaven, and give thee
welcome. Let no preacher of smooth things persuade thee that this is not
crime. O, sinner, think of thy sin, if thou art making light of him, for then
art thou making light of the King’s only Son.
And yet, again, these people made light also of the King who had prepared
the banquet. Ah! little dost thou know, O sinner, when thou dost trifle with
the gospel, that thou art insulting God. I have heard some say, “Sir, I do
not believe in Christ, but still I am sure I try to reverence God; I do not
care about the gospel. I do not wish to be washed in Jesu’s blood, nor to
be saved in free grace fashion, but I do not despise God; I am a natural
religionist!” Nay, sir, but thou dost insult the Almighty, inasmuch as thou
dost deny his Son. Despise a man’s offspring, and thou hast insulted the
man himself; reject the only begotten Son of God, and thou hast rejected
the eternal one himself. There is no such thing as true natural religion apart
from Christ, it is a lie and a falsehood, it is the refuge of a man who is not
brave enough to say he hates God, but it is only a refuge of lies, for he who
denieth Christ in that act offendeth God, and shutteth up heaven’s gates
against himself. There is no loving the Father except through the Son; and
there is no acceptable worship of the Father, except through the Great
High Priest the Mediator, Jesus Christ. Oh! my friend, remember, thou hast
not merely despised the gospel, but thou hast despised the gospel’s God. In
laughing at the doctrines of revelation, thou hast laughed at God; in
reviling the truth of the gospel, thou hast reviled God himself; thou hast
bent thy fist in the face of the Eternal, thine oaths have not fallen upon the
church, they have fallen upon God himself. Oh! remember, ye that mock at
the message of Christ! Oh! remember, ye that turn away from the ministry
of truth! God is a mighty one; how severely can he punish! God is a jealous
God: oh! how severely will he punish! Make light of God, sinner? Why,
this above all things is a damning sin, and in committing it, it may be thou
wilt one day sign thine own death-warrant; for making light of God, of
Christ, and of his holy gospel, is destroying one’s own soul, and rushing
headlong to perdition. Ah! unhappy souls, most unhappy must ye be, if ye
live and die making light of Christ, and preferring your farms and your
merchandise to the treasures of the gospel.
Again: bethink thee, my poor, pitiable friend, in that thou makest light of
all the things I have mentioned, thou art making light of the great
solemnities of eternity. The man who lightly esteems the gospel makes
light of hell; he thinks its fires are not hot, and its flames not such as Christ
has described them; he makes light of the burning tears that scald
despairing cheeks for ever; he makes light of the yells and shrieks that must
be the doleful songs and terrible music of perishing souls. Ah I it is no wise
thing to make light of hell.
Consider again: thou makest light of heaven — that place to which the
blest ones long to go, where glory reigns without a cloud, and bliss without
a sigh. Thou puttest the crown of everlasting life beneath thy feet, thou
treadest the palm-branch beneath thine unhallowed foot and thou thinkest
it little to be saved, and little to be glorified. “Ah! poor soul, when thou art
once in hell, and, when the iron key is turned for ever in the lock of
inevitable destiny, thou wilt find hell to be a something not so easy to
despise; and when thou hast lost heaven and all its bliss, and canst only
hear the song of the blessed, sounding faintly in the distance, increasing thy
misery by contrast with their joy, then thou wilt find it no little thing to
have made light of heaven. Every man who makes light of religion makes
light of these things. He misjudges the value of his own soul, and the
importance of its eternal state.
This is what men make light of. “Oh! sir,” says one, “I never indulge in any
words hostile to God’s truth, I never laugh at the minister, nor do I despise
the Sabbath.” Stop, my friend, I will acquit thee of all that; and yet I will
solemnly lay to thy charge this great sin of making light of the gospel. Hear
me then!
II. How IS IT THAT MEN MAKE LIGHT OF IT?
In the first place it is making light of the gospel and of the whole of God’s
glorious things, when men go to hear and yet do not attend. How many
frequent churches and chapels to indulge in a comfortable nap! Think what
a fearful insult that is to the King of heaven. Would they enter into Her
Majesty’s palace ask an audience, and then go to sleep before her face?
And yet the sin of sleeping in Her Majesty’s presence, would not be so
great, even against her laws, as the sin of wilfully slumbering in God’s
sanctuary. How many go to our houses of worship who do not sleep, but
who sit with vacant stare, listening as they would to a man who could not
play a lively tune upon a good instrument. What goeth in at one ear goeth
out at another. Whatever entereth the brain goeth out without ever
affecting the heart. Ah, my hearers, you are guilty of making light of -
God’s gospel, when you sit under a sermon without attending to it! Oh!
what would lost souls give to hear another sermon! What would yonder
dying wretch who is just now nearing the grave, give for another Sabbath!
And what will you give, one of these days, when you shall be hard by
Jordan’s brink, that you might have one more warning, and listen once
more to the wooing voice of God’s minister! We make light of the gospel
when we hear it, without solemn and awful attention to it.
But some say they do attend. Well, it is possible to attend to the gospel,
and yet to make light of it. I have seen some men weep beneath a powerful
sermon; I have marked the tears chase each other — tears, blessed telltales
of emotions within. I have sometimes said to myself, it is marvellous
to see these people weep under some telling word from God, which is
alarming them, as if Sinai itself were thundering in their ears. But there is
something more marvellous than men’s weeping under the word. It is the
fact that they soon, too soon, wipe all their tears away. But ah! my dear
hearer, recollect that if thou hearest of these things and shakest off a
solemn impression, thou art, in doing that, slighting God and making light
of his truth; and take heed how you do that lest your own garments be red
with the blood of your soul, and it be said, “Oh, Israel, thou hast destroyed
thyself.”
But there are others who make light of it in a different fashion. They hear
the word and attend to it; but, alas! they attend to something else with it.
Oh! my hearer, thou makest light of Christ, if thou puttest him anywhere
save in the center of thine heart. He who gives Christ a little of his
affections, makes light of Christ for Christ will have the whole heart or
none at all. He who gives Christ a portion and the world a portion,
despises Christ, for he seems to think that Christ does not deserve to have
the whole. And inasmuch as he says that, or thinks that, he hath mean and
unholy thoughts of Christ. Oh! carnal man, thou who art half religious, and
half profane, thou who art sometimes serious, but as often frivolous,
sometimes apparently pious, but yet so often unholy, thou makest light of
Christ. And ye who weep on the Sunday, and then go back to your sins on
the Monday; ye who set the world and its pleasures before Christ, ye think
less of him than he deserves, and what is that but to make light of him? Oh!
I charge you, ask yourself, my hearer this night, art not thou the man? dost
not thou thyself make light of Christ? The sell righteous man who sets
himself up as a partner with Christ in the matter of salvation,
notwithstanding all his trumpery good works, is such a ringleader among
despisers, that I would gibbet him in the very middle of them, and bid all
like him tremble, lest they also be found slighters of Jesus.
He makes light of Christ, again, who makes a profession of religion, and
yet does not live up to it. Ah! church members, ye want a great deal of
sifting, we have an immense quantity of chaff now mixed with the wheat,
and sometimes I think we have something worse than that. We have some
in our churches that are not so good as chaff, for they do not seem to have
been near the wheat at all; they are nothing better than tares. They have
come into our churches, just as they would into a trade-association,
because they think it will improve their business. It gives respectability to
their name to take the sacrament, it makes them esteemed to have been
baptized, or to be a member of a Christian church; and so they come in by
shoals after the loaves and fishes, but not after Jesus Christ. Ah! hypocrite,
thou makest light of Christ if thou thinkest that he is a stalkinghorse to get
thee wealth. If thou dreamest that thou art to saddle and bridle Christ, and
ride to wealth upon him, thou makest a grand mistake, for he was never
meant to carry men anywhere except to heaven. If you suppose that
religion was intended to gild your homes, to carpet your floors, and line
your purses, you have greatly erred. It was intended to be profitable to the
soul; and he who thinks to use religion to his own personal advantage
thinks lightly of Christ: and at the last day this crime shall belaid to his
charge — that he has made light of it,” and the King shall send his armies
to cut him in pieces, among those who have despised his Majesty, and
would not obey his laws.
III. And now, in the third place, I will tell YOU WHY THEY MADE LIGHT
OF IT. They did so from different reasons.
Some of them made light of it because they were ignorant; they did not
know how good the feast was, they did not know how gracious the king
was, they did not know how fair the Prince was, or else they might have
thought differently. Now there are many present to-night, I dare say, who
think lightly of the gospel, because they do not understand it. I have often
heard people laugh at religion; but ask them what it is, and they know no
more about religion than a horse, and worse than that, for they believe
untruths about it, and a horse does not do that. They laugh at it, simply
because they do not comprehend it; it is a thing beyond them. We have
heard of a foolish man who, whenever he heard a piece of Latin mentioned,
laughed at it, because he thought it was a joke, at any rate it was a very
outlandish way of talking — and so he laughed. So it is with many when
they hear the gospel; they do not know what it is, and so they laugh at it.
“Oh!” they say, “the man is mad.” But why is he mad? Because you do not
understand him. Are you so conceited as to suppose that all wisdom and all
learning must rest with you? I would hint to you that the madness is on the
other side. And though you may say of him, “Much learning hath made
thee mad;” we would reply, “It is quite as easy to be made mad with none
at all.” And those who have none, and especially those who have no
knowledge of Christ, are the most likely to despise him. Well did Watts say
“His worth, if all the nations knew
Sure, the whole earth would love him too.”
Oh! dear friends, if you once knew what a blessed master Christ is, if you
once knew what a blessed thing the gospel is, if you could once be brought
to believe what a blessed God our God is, if you could only have one
hour’s enjoyment such as the Christian experiences, if you could only have
one promise applied to your heart you would never make light of the
gospel again. Oh! you say you do not like it, Why, you have never tried it?
Should a man despise the wine of which he has never sipped. It may be
sweeter than he dreams? Oh! taste and see that the Lord is good, and so
sure as ever you taste, you will see his goodness. I will venture to say,
again, that there are many who make light of the gospel, simply through
ignorance; and if that is so, I am somewhat in hopes that when they are a
little enlightened by sitting under the Word, the Lord may be pleased
graciously to bring them to himself, and then I know they will never make
light of Christ again. Oh! do not be ignorant, “for that the soul be without
knowledge is not good.” Seek to know him, whom to know aright is life
eternal; and when you know him you will never make light of him.
Other people make light of it because of pride. “What is the good,” said
one, “of bringing me that invitation? Step into my house, my man, I will
show you a feast quite as good as any you can tell me of. Look here! there
is good cheer for you my table is as well spread as any man’s; begging his
Majesty’s pardon, the King cannot give a better feast than I; and I do not
see why I should drag my bones about to get nothing better than I can get
at home.” So he would not go, out of pride. And so with some of you. You
want to be washed! No you were never filthy were you? You need to be
forgiven! Oh no! you are rather too good for that! Why, you are so awfully
pious in your own conceit, that if it were all true you would make even the
angel Gabriel blush to think of you. You do not think even an angel
capable of holding a candle to you. What! you seek for mercy It is an insult
to you. “Go and tell the drunkard,” you say, “go and fetch the harlot; but I
am a respectable man, I always go to church or chapel, I am a very good
sort of fellow. I may frolic now and then, but I make it up some other day.
I am sometimes a little slack, but then I rein the horses in, and make up the
distance afterwards; and I dare say I shall get to heaven as soon as anybody
else. I am a very good sort.” Well, my friend, I do not wonder that you
despise the gospel, for the gospel just tells you that you are entirely lost. It
tells you that your very righteousness is full of sin. That, as for any hope of
your being saved by it, you might as well try to sail across the Atlantic on a
sere leaf as try to get to heaven by your righteousness. And as for it being a
garment fit to cover you, you might as well get a spider’s web to go to
court in, and think it a dress fit to appear in before her Majesty. Ah! my
hearer, I know why thou despisest Christ, it is because of thy Satanic pride.
May the Lord pull the pride out of thee, for if he do not, it will be the
faggot that shall roast thy soul for ever. Take heed of pride, by pride fell
the angels — how can men, then, though the image of their Maker, hope to
win by it? Shun it, flee from it; for so sure as thou art proud, wilt thou
incur the guilt of making light of Christ.
Perhaps quite as many made light of the good news, because they did not
believe the messenger. “Oh!” said they, “stop a moment. What! a dinner to
be given away? I do not believe it. What! the young Prince going to be
married? Tell that to fools, we do not believe any such thing. What! we all
invited? We do not believe it; the story is incredible.” The poor messenger
went home and told his Master that they would not believe him. That is
just another reason why many men make light of the gospel, because they
do not believe it. “What!” they say “Jesus Christ died to wash men from
their sins? We do not believe it. What! A heaven. Who ever saw it? A hell!
Who ever heard its groans? What! Eternity. Who ever returned from that
last hope of every spirit. What! Blessedness in religion? We do not believe
it — it is a moping, miserable thing. What! Sweetness in the promises? No
there is not, we believe there is sweetness in the world, but we do not
believe there is any in the wells the Lord has digged.” And so they despise
the gospel, because they do not believe it. But, I am sure, that when a man
once believes it, he never thinks lightly of it. Once let me have the solemn
conviction in my heart by the Holy Spirit, that if unsaved, there is a gaping
gulf that shall devour me; do you think I can go to rest till I have trembled
from head to foot? Once let me heartily believe that there is a heaven
provided for those who believe on Christ, do you think I could give sleep
to my eyes, or slumber to my eyelids, till I have wept because it is not
mine? I believe not. But damnable unbelief thrusts his hand into the mouth
of man, and plucks up his heart, and so destroys him, for it will not let him
believe, and, therefore, he cannot feel, because he believeth not. Oh! my
friends, it is unbelief that makes men think lightly of Christ; but unbelief
will not do so by-and-bye. There are no infidels in hell: they are all
believers there. There are many that were infidels here, but they are not so
now; the flames are too hot to make them doubt their existence. It is hard
for a man, tormented in the flame, to doubt the existence of the fire. It
would be difficult for a man, standing before the burning eyes of a God, to
doubt the existence of a God after that Ah! unbelievers, turn ye, or rather,
may the Lord turn you from your unbelief, for this makes you think lightly
of Christ; and this it is that is taking away your life, and destroying your
souls.
Another set of people thought lightly of this feast because they were so
worldly; they had so much to do. I have heard of a rich merchant who was
waited on one day by a godly man, and when he stopped him, he said to
him, “Well, sir, what is the state of your soul?” “Soul!” he said, “bother
you, I have no time to take care of my soul; I have enough to do to take
care of my ships.” About a week after, it so happened that he had to find
time to die, for God took him away. We fear he said to him “Thou fool!
this night thy soul shall be required of thee; then whose shall those things
be which thou hast hoarded up for thyself?” Ye merchants of London,
there are many of you who read your ledgers more than your Bibles.
Perhaps you must, but ye do not read your Bibles at all, while ye read your
ledgers every day. In America, it is said, they worship the almighty dollar; I
believe that in London many men worship the almighty sovereign; they
have the greatest possible respect for an almighty bank note; that is the god
which many men are always adoring. The prayer-book they carry so
religiously in their hands is their cash-book. Even on Sunday, there is a
gentleman over there, he does not think his foreman knows it, but he was
sitting indoors all this morning, because it was wet, casting up his
accounts, and now he comes here in the evening, because he is a very pious
man — extraordinarily so. He would shut the parks up on a Sunday, he
would — he would not let a soul get a breath of fresh air, because he is so
pious but he himself may sit half-a-day in the counting-house and yet think
it no sin. But many are too busy to think of these things. “Pray!” they say,
“I have no time for that; I have to pay. What! read the Bible? No I cannot;
I have to be looking over this thing and that thing, and seeing how the
markets go. I find time to read the Times, but I could not think of reading
the Bible,” It will be marvellously unfortunate for some of you, that you
will find the lease of your lives rather shorter than you expected. If you had
taken a lease of your lives for eighty-eight years from this date, you would
be foolish enough, perhaps, to spend forty-four in sin. But considering that
you are a tenant at will, and liable to be turned out any day, it is the height
of folly, the very climax of absurdity, excelling all that the fool, with his cap
and bells, ever did, to he living just to gather up the pelf of this world, and
not for things to come. Worldliness is a demon that hath wrung the neck of
many souls; God grant that we may not perish through our worldliness!
There is another class of people that I can only charaeterize in this way:
they are altogether thoughtless. If you ask them concerning religion, their
nave no opinion as all about it. They do not positively detest it, they do not
mock at it, but they have not a thought about it. The fact of it is, they
intend thinking about it by-and-bye. Theirs is a kind of butterfly existence,
they are always moving about, never doing anything, neither for others or
themselves. And these are very amiable people, who are always ready to
give a guinea for a charity, they never refuse anybody, and they would give
their guinea all the same, whether it was for a cricket match or a church.
Now, if I were forced to go back to the world and had to choose the
character I would wish to be, the last position I would wish to occupy
would be that of the thoughtless man. I believe thoughtless persons are in
the most danger of being lost of any class. I know, I like, sometimes to get
under the word a thoroughly stout, stiff, hater of the gospel for his heart is
like a flint, and when it is struck with the hammer of the gospel the flint
goes to pieces in a moment. But these thoughtless people have indictrubber
hearts — you hit them, and they give way; you strike them again,
and they give way. If they are sick, and you visit them, they say “yes.” You
talk to them about the importance of religion, they say “yes.” You talk to
them about escaping from hell and entering heaven, they say “yes.” You
preach a sermon to them when they are better, and remind them of the
vows they made in their sickness; “it is quite right, sir,” they say. And they
say the same whatever you may tell them. They are always very polite to
you; but whatever you say to them is put aside. If you begin talking to
them about drunkards, oh! they are not drunkards; they may have
accidently got drunk once, but that was a little thing out of the usual way.
And bring whatever sin you like to them, you may hit them, and hit them,
but it is no good, for they are not half so easily broken (speaking after the
manner of men) as the real stout-hearted hater of the gospel. Why, there is
a sailor comes rolling home from sea, swearing, blaspheming, cursing, he
comes into the house of God, and almost the first word is applied by the
Spirit for the breaking of Jack’s heart. Another young man says, “I know
as much as any minister can tell me; for my own mother taught me, and my
old father used to read the Bible for me till, I believe, I have got every bit
of it in my head. I go to chapel out of respect to his memory, but I really
don’t care at all about it; it is very good for old people, it is quite right for
old women, and those who are dying, and in time of cholera. It is a very
good thing, but I don’t care anything about it just now.” Now, I tell you,
careless people, most solemnly, that you are the very devil’s lifeguards; you
are his reserve; he keeps you away from the battle; he does not send you
out like he does a blasphemer, for he fears that a shot may haply light upon
you, and you may be saved. But he says, “Stand by here, and if you have to
go out I will give you an impenetrable coat of mail.” The arrows go rattling
against you: they all hit you; but alas! there is not one of them that
penetrates your heart, for that is left elsewhere. You are only an empty
chrysalis, and when you come to God’s house, and his word is preached,
you make light of it, because it is your habit to be thoughtless about
everything.
Very briefly I must touch another case, and then I must dismiss you. You
may make light of the gospel out of sheer presumption. They are like the
foolish man, who goes on, and is punished, not like the prudent man, who
“forseeth the evil, and hideth himself.” They go on, that step is safe — they
take it; the next step is safe — they take it; their foot hangs over a gulf of
darkness; but they will try one step, and as that is safe, they think they will
try the next; and as the last has been safe, and as for many years they have
been sate, they suppose they always shall be; and because they have not
died yet, they think they will never die. And so out of sheer presumption,
thinking “all men mortal but themselves,” they go on making light of
Christ. Tremble, ye presumptions, you will not always he able to do that.
And, lastly, I fear there are a great many who make light of Christ because
of the commonness of the gospel. It is preached everywhere, and that is
why you make light of it. You can hear it at the corner of every street; you
can read it in this widely circulated Bible, and because the gospel is so
common, therefore, you don’t care for it. Ah! my dear friends, if there
were only one gospel minister in London that could tell you the truth, if
there were only one Bible in London, I believe you would be rushed to
hear that Bible read; and the man who had the message would have no
sinecure of it, he would be obliged to work from morning to night, to tell it
out to you. But now, because you have so many Bibles you forget to read
them; because you have so many tracts you pack up any article in them,
because you have so many sermons you do not think anything at all of
them. But why is that? Dost thou think the less of the sun because he
scatters his beams abroad? Dost thou think the less of bread because it is
the food which God gives to all his children? Dost thou think the less of
water, when thou art thirsty, because every rill will afford it to thee? No. If
thou wert athirst after Christ, thou wouldst love him all the better, because
he is preached everywhere; and thou wouldst not think lightly of him
because of that.
“They made light of it.” How many of my hearers to-night, I ask again, are
making light of Christ? Many of you are, no doubt. I will give you, then,
just one warning, and then farewell. Make light of Christ, sinner! let me
say, again, to thee, and thou wilt rue the day, when thou comest on thy
death-bed. It will go hard with thee when the bony monster has got the
grip of thee, and when he is bringing thee down the river, to steep thee in
the lake of death. It will go hard with thee, when thy eye-strings break, and
when thy death-sweat stands upon thy brow. Remember, last time thou
hadst a fever; ah! how thou didst shake. Remember, last night, how thou
didst quake in thy bed, when flash after flash of lightning came through thy
window; and how thou didst tremble when the deep-mouthed thunder
spake out the voice of God. Ah! sinner, thou wilt tremble worse then when
thou shalt see death for thyself, and when the bony rider, on his white
horse, shall grasp his dart and plunge it in thy bowels. It will go hard with
thee then, if thou hast no Christ to shelter thee, no blood wherein to wash
thy soul! Remember, moreover, after death cometh the judgment. It will go
hard with thee if thou hast despised Christ, and shalt die a despiser. See
that flying angel? his wings are made of flame, and in his hand he grasps a
sharp two-edged sword. O angel, wherefore dost thou wing thy speedy
flight. “Hark!” says he, “this trump shall tell you — “ And he puts a
trumpet to his lips, and
“Blows a blast so loud and dread,
Ne er were prophetic sounds so full of woe.”
Look! the sheeted dead have started from their graves. Behold, the cloudy
chariot is wheeled along by cherub’s hand. Mark! there upon the throne
there sits the King — the Prince. O angel, what in this terrible day must
become of the man that has thought lightly of Christ? See there, he
unsheathes his sword. “This blade,” says he, “shall find and pierce him
through. This blade like a sickle, shall reap each tare from the wheat, and
this strong arm shall bind him up in his bundle to be burned; and this great
arm of mine shall grasp him, and hurl him down, down, down, where
flames for ever burn, and hell for ever howls.” It will go hard with you
then. Mark this man’s word to-night, go away and laugh at it, but
remember, I say to you again, it will be a solemn thing for you when Christ
shall come to judgment, if you have made light of him, and worse than all,
if you should ever be locked up in the caverns of despair, if you should
ever hear it said, “Depart ye cursed,” if you should ever mingle your awful
shrieks with the doleful howls of lost myriads, if you should see the pit that
is bottomless, and the gulf that has walls of fire. It will be a fearful thing to
find thyself in there, and to know that thou canst ne’er get out again!
Sinner, this night I preach the gospel to thee. E’er thou goest, hear it, and
believe it, may God grant thee grace to receive it, so thou shalt be saved.
“He that believeth and is baptized, shall be saved. He that believeth not,”
so saith the Scripture,” shall be damned.” To believe, is to put your trust in
Christ; to be baptized, is to be plunged in water in the name of the Lord
Jesus, as a profession that you are already saved, and that you love Christ.
“He that believeth, and is baptized, shall be saved, and he that believeth not
shall be damned,” O may you never know the meaning of that last word.
Farewell!