NO
DELAY.
"Seek ye the Lord while he
may be found". - Isa. iv.6
If Adam and Eve were somewhat ignorant, as we suppose them
to have been, of God's omniscience, no wonder that they attempted to escape his
notice. "The wicked fleeth when no man pursueth." Nothing more natural for them
than, as soon as they heard his step in the garden, to run, and make for the
nearest and thickest bush. They had broken his law, and knew the consequences -
" In the day that thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die." To have waited
by the tree when they heard God, would have been to wait for death; to have
left the bush where they lay concealed would have been to court it. To that
guilty pair, as they crouched in fear and terror under the tree, the words of
the text were the last we should have addressed; and the last they would have
listened to. Their interest appeared to lie, not in seeking the Lord, but in
fleeing from him; and such counsel as this would have appeared to come from
that malignant devil who had planned, and now wished to complete, their ruin.
No angel, ignorant of God's purpose, and looking with pity on our fallen
parents, none but the fiend who gloried in the mischief he had wrought, would
have given them at that moment the advice that the Bible now gives us - " Seek
ye the Lord while he may be found; call ye upon him while he is near."
Why
so? why would it have seemed to be for Adam and Eve's interest to reject the
counsel which it is so much for ours to take? Is there not the same law both to
us and them - " The soul that sinneth, it shall die?" Is not God known to both
as a God of justice to enact such a law, and of truth to execute it? Are not
both the children and the parents conscious that as sinners, they stand equally
exposed to its tremendous punishment? Why, then, is it not natural for us,
instead of seeking the Lord, to flee his presence in dread of his avenging
power? The difference between their circumstances and ours lies in this - that
when they fled from God in Eden, their knowledge of him was circumscribed as
compared with ours. Ignorant as yet of a mercy which was about for the first
time to be revealed, they knew him only as a God of justice, of holiness, and
of truth. But what makes it your plain as well as highest interest to seek the
Lord, is that you know what they did not - that he is very pitiful and of great
mercy; that he is not willing that any should perish; that he hath no pleasure
in the death of the sinner; and that if he stands with the sword of justice
glittering in one hand, in the other he holds out for your acceptance an ample
pardon, and a blood-bought crown.
Had Adam and Eve known that he, whose
voice they heard with such terror in the garden, had come not to slay but to
save them; not to destroy them, but their enemy; not to give them a grave, but
hope in the promise of a Saviour, how had they hastened to fall at his feet,
and cry, 'Father forgive us, we knew not what we did' - flying as fast to God
as they fled from God? Now, what they would have done had they known this,
knowing it, we should certainly do. To seek him, were he merely a God of
unbending justice, would be to rush on the bosses of the Almighty's buckler,
and precipitate our ruin. But to all who seek him through a Redeemer, he is
merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and slow to wrath, abundant in goodness
and in truth. Our highest interests, therefore, our present, and future, and
eternal happiness, lie in yielding implicit and immediate obedience to the
call, Seek ye the Lord while he may be found. How does the lapse of years, the
close of every day, enforce this? The setting sun; the clouds that, like the
infirmities of age, gather round his sinking head; the fading light; the
workman wending homeward, the peasant leaving his plough in the furrow, the
weaver his shuttle on the loom; the larks that have dropped out of silent skies
; the birds sitting mute on the branches; the flowers with their eyes closed
and leaves folded up ; the tenants of lone cottages and crowded city retiring
to rest ; and by and bye the silence of a world wrapped in darkness and sleep -
these are suggestive to a thoughtful mind of the close of life, the sleep of
death, and our bed beneath a grassy sod. And each night that sun, whose lines
go throughout all the earth, and his words to the ends of the world, with the
heavens for his pulpit and the world for his audience, seems as he leaves us to
say, Work while it is called to-day, seeing that the night cometh when no man
can work.
I. Consider what we are to understand by seeking
the Lord.
The sense in which this is to be taken is explained by the
succeeding verses "Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his
thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him;
and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. For my thoughts are not your
thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are
higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts
than your thoughts." It is as a God, therefore, who will have mercy on the
worst, and abundantly pardon the wickedest, that we are to seek the Lord -
seeking him without a day's, or even an hour's, delay. To approach him in any
other character, would be to throw ourselves on a naked sword - were in effect
to offer the profane swearer's prayer, to pray that God would damn us.
We
may, as man has often done, stand at a human bar conscious of our innocence.
Strong in our integrity, and confident that the day of trial will prove us
guiltless of the crimes laid to our charge, roll the cloud from our character,
and cover our accusers with shame and confusion, we may refuse te put in a plea
for mercy; boldly declaring that we want nothing more, and will accept of
nothing less, than justice - impartial justice. At God's tribunal, however, it
a very different. There, simple justice were sure damnation. The Lord said to
the Devil, "Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him on
the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and escheweth
evil ?" yet, this perfect and upright man asks, "How should man be just with
God? if he will contend with him, he cannot answer one in a thousand?" The
Psalmist was "a man after God's own heart," the most devout of men; yet he
trembles at the thought of being dealt with on mere principles of justice. He
deprecates it; he prays expressly and earnestly against it - saying, enter not
into judgment with thy servant, for in thy sight shall no man living be
justified.
It is therefore, in his double aspect, combined but not
contradictory character, as at once just and the justifier of them that believe
in Jesus, as a God of justice to punish sin in the surety, and as a God of
mercy to pardon it in the sinner, that we are to seek the Lord; and all the
blessings which in that gracious character he has, and he promises, to bestow.
Thus, to seek the Lord is just to approach him by faith; and in the pardon of
sin and our sanctification, in a blood-bought title, and a Spirit-wrought
meetness for the heavenly kingdom, to seek those benefits of redemption which
Christ so dearly purchased, God so freely gives, and man so fully needs. "How
shall we escape if we neglect this great salvation ?" Therefore seek the Lord
while he is to be found.
II Inquire when these things are to
be obtained, or, to use the words of my text, when the Lord is to be found? -
and we remark,
1. That the Lord, as bestowing the pardon of sin and
salvation of the soul, is to be found in this world, not in another.
Our
spirits pass into the eternal world so soon as death dissolves the union that
binds body and soul together. And what gives an awful solemnity to the last
breath, the last quiver of the lips, that long shivering sigh which tells that
all is over, is the thought that at, that moment the condition of the dead is
forever fixed While the last groan is sounding in our ears, ere we have time to
close the filmy eyes, to imprint a kiss on the marble brow, to move one step
from the bedside, the soul has entered on a destiny of inexpressible happiness,
or unutterable woe. The case of any, in whose fate we have felt a tender
interest, but who died, alas, without leaving us any good ground for hope, nay,
the awful, but certain fact, that many thus die, would make us, had we the
shadow of a ground for it, believe, and cling to the belief, that hope survives
this life ; and that a man might be pardoned in another world who went
unpardoned out of this. What God might have done had he so chosen, I dare not
say. Whether he might have made one offer more of mercy to the disembodied
spirit; whether, after revealing to its astonshed gaze the glories of heaven
and the misery of hell, letting it hear the praises of the saved and the groans
of the lost, he might have made one last offer of a Saviour, I dare not
conjecture. There are truths in his word more or less clear to our eye, more or
less comprehensible by our understanding; there are passages in the Holy
Scriptures where a child may walk through, and others where a giant must swim.
But if there is one doctrine more clearly revealed than another it is this -
that God has made no such offer; and makes none. As the tree falleth so it
lieth - the law of the other world this, He that is unjust, let him be unjust
still; and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still; and he that is
righteous, let him be righteous still; and he that is holy, let him be holy
still.
Who doubts that they who pass out of this life rejecting Christ
shall not have taken one step into another when they shall regret, bitterly
regret, their folly? It shall be too late for regrets then. The cry has arisen;
the lamps are lighted; the bridegroom has entered; he door is shut-and now they
who would not open to Christ, nor receive him into their hearts, when he stood
knocking at their doors, shall in vain knock at his, crying, Lord, Lord, open
unto us. What a change What a change to any at the moment of departure - from
the seen to the unseen; from the society of men to that of angels; from the
symbols of communion to the living presence of Christ; from the darkness of a
dying scene to the light that is inaccessible, and full of glory; from the echo
of our own groans, and the sounds of weeping, to the burst of ten times ten
thousand voices, singing the songs of the redeemed. But greater changes than
these to the impenitent and unbelieving, when the Father who gave up his Son to
die for us, shall turn a deaf ear to their cries for mercy; and the Son who
dyed his cross red with the blood of love, and invited sinners to his arms,
will bid them begone, saying, "Depart from me, I never knew you, ye workers of
iniquity". To seek the Lord, therefore, while he may be found, in other words,
to seek pardon and reconciliation when they may be obtained, is to seek them in
time. Here is a throne of grace, but yonder a throne of justice; here Christ is
a saviour, but yonder be acts the part of a judge. That judge is at the door -
therefore, whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might, for
there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither
thou goest.
2. That the Lord, as bestowing the pardon of sin and salvation
of the soul, is not to be found on a death-bed.
Yet that is the place, and
the last hours of life the time, when many intend to seek him. They buoy
themselves up with the hope of procuring the salvation then, which, till then,
they have resolved to reject or at least to neglect. It is with dim and dying
eyes they are to read their Bibles; it is with panting, faltering, dying voice
they are to pray for mercy; it is when the hand of Death is thundering loud at
the door, and he stands grim by their bedside, that they are to take the advice
of my text and turn to the Lord. What folly! Is this your plan? And what is it
in this scheme that makes you think it safe and good? It appears to me a
desperate venture; so desperate, that I wonder that the Devil, with all his
arts and power to deceive, can persuade any man to venture on it who is endowed
with reason, and possesses a glimmering of sense. "Surely in vain," says
Solomon, "the net is spread in sight of any bird ;" but here, not as there
where the trap is temptingly baited and cunningly masked, the meshes of the net
and the person of the fowler are patent to all eyes. Look at it!
First, Is this plan honouring to God, that we expect him, in the pardon
of sin and salvation of our souls, to grant us at death what we have
obstinately and persistently refused all our days? It is a plain mockery of
God. It says, I will not turn to him till I can do no better - I will trample
on his laws as long as I can do it safely - I will keep his Son standing at the
door, till, weary, he turns to depart, and his last knock warns me that it is
high time to open - I will give my health and vigour, the bloom of my youth,
the mature powers of my manhood, the morning, the noon-day, even the evening of
my life to the devil, the world, and the flesh - and the God that loved me, and
the Saviour who pitied me and died for me, I will put off with the few, weak,
worthless hours that precede the fall of the curtain; the close of life. How
can a plan so insulting to God, and dishonouring to his Son, succeed? Be not
deceived. God is not mocked. He refuses these vile dregs of life. "If ye
offer," he says, "the blind for sacrifice, is it not evil? If ye offer the lame
and the sick, is it not evil? Offer it now to thy governor, will he be pleased
with thee, or accept thy person? saith the Lord of hosts. A son honoureth his
father and a servant his master; if, then, I be a father where is mine honour,
If I be a master, where is my fear?"
Secondly, Is it because death
is a suitable and convenient period for seeking the pardon of sin and salvation
of the soul, that we propose to delay this matter till then? Suitable,
convenient! Does death send us warning of his approach; giving due and timely
notice that after so many weeks or days, we may look for a visit from the Ring
of Terrors? Like other kings, is he always preceded by messengers to prepare
the way, and make all things ready for his reception? No. The robber comes
under the cloud of night; steals quietly into your house; treads the floor with
muffled feet; and before you wake to seize his hand, has you by the throat, and
plants a dagger in your heart. So death may come. "I come," says our Lord, "as
a thief in the night - " "Behold I come quickly." Coming so, the
procrastinating die without hope. And though death should make no such stealthy
attack, nor leap on us with the suddenness of a tiger's spring, whoever looked
on a dying scene to make resolutions such as these - I will delay seeking the
Lord till my body is racked with these pains, my mind reeling in this wild
delirium; not till I cannot lift my head from its pillow, not till I cannot
read a line of the Bible, not till I can neither pray nor listen to the prayers
of others, will I seek the Lord! I venture to say that wherever man made such a
resolution, no man in his sober senses ever made it by a dyingbed. No. Death
has enough to do with itself. It is a time not to seek, but to enjoy the
comforts of religion; and if there is one impression which life's closing scene
makes most strongly and deeply on the spectator, it is this, Now is the
accepted time, this is the day of salvation.
Thirdly, Is it because
experience and the Bible encourages us to believe that the pardon of sin and
salvation of the soul are most likely to be found at death, that we do not seek
and call upon the Lord now? Who believes that there are many in heaven, and but
few in hell, who deferred the duty of my text to dying hours? The reverse is
the case. I have no doubt of that. Hell is paved with good intentions; and as
there are few in the place of misery but intended before they left the world to
seek the Lord, there are few in glory, who were called, justified, and
sanctified, so late as the eleventh hour. The Bible records the names and
history of many who are there now; and how many of them were saved on a
death-bed? Many? a few of them? No. One single case of a call at the eleventh
hour is all we find. One, as has been said, to teach none to despair, and but
one to teach none to presume.
3. The Lord, as bestowing pardon and
salvation, is more likely to be found now than at any future time. We can
foretell neither what, nor where we shall be to-morrow. By to-morrow, the place
that now knows us may know us no more forever. This may be our last Sabbath on
earth; this the last occasion on which we shall ever all meet together till the
resurrection; this the last time we may ever look on an earthly church and ere
these doors are agained opened for worship, for some of us a grave may have
opened, and over us a grave may have closed. Sudden death either by accident or
disease, the sun rising on a healthy form and setting on a breathless corpse,
such events are ever warning us. And in the face of such warnings what folly it
is to fold the hands, and compose ourselves anew to sleep, counting on this day
being as yesterday, and to-morrow as to-day!
Suppose it were so; and that,
like Hezekiah, we had other fifteen years added to our life, I still stand upon
my ground; and maintain that we are more likely to find the Lord this day than
during any other period of this new lease. Sin is like the descent of a hill,
where every step we take increases the difficulty of our return. Sin is like a
river in its course ; the longer it runs, it wears a deeper channel, and the
farther from the fountain, it swells in volume and acquires a greater strength.
Sin is like a tree in its progress ; the longer it grows, it spreads its roots
the wider ; grows taller ; grows thicker ; till the sapling which once an
infant's arm could bend, raises its head aloft, defiant of the storm. Sin in
its habits becomes stronger every day - the heart grows harder; the conscience
grows duller; the distance between God and the soul grows greater; and, like a
rock hurled from the mountan's top, the farther we descend, we go down, and
down, and down, with greater and greater rapidity. How easy, for example, is it
to touch the conscience of childhood; but how difficult to break in on the
torpor of a hoary head! A child, with few sins on his young head, will tremble
at the idea of death and judgment; while the old man lies on his dying bed, and
whether you thunder in his ears the terrors of a broken law, or, holding up the
cross before his dim eyes, tell him of the love of Jesus, no tears run down
these furrowed cheeks, nor prayers move lips, whose oaths are recorded in the
books of judgment.
I know that God, bending stubborn knees, and breaking
the hardest heart, can call at the eleventh hour. Is anything too hard for me?
saith the Lord. He saves at the very uttermost. But I would say to him who
tries how near he may go to hell, and yet be saved, It is a dangerous
experiment-a desperate venture. It provokes God to recall his Spirit, and leave
you to your fate, saying, He is joined to his idols, let him
alone.
III. The shortness and uncertainty of life are strong
reasons for seeking pardon and salvation now.
There is nothing so certain
as death; and what more uncertain than life? How brief it is! Who stood
sentinel by the gate of Shushan when the royal couriers, bearing hope to the
Jews, dashed through, burying their spurs in their horses' flanks - who lately
stood on the platform by the iron rails that stretch from Holyhead to London,
when, signals flashed or along the line to stop the traffic and keep all clear,
an engine and carriage dashed by with tidings of peace or war from America -
-saw an image of our life. The eagle poising herself a moment on the wing, and
then rushing at her prey; the ship that, throwing the spray from her bows,
scuds before the gale; the shuttle flashing through the loom; the shadow of a
cloud sweeping the hill-side, and then gone for ever, nor leaving a trace
behind; the summer flowers that, vanishing, have left our gardens bare, and
where were spread out the colours of the rainbow, only dull, black earth, or
the rotting wrecks of beauty - these, with many other fleeting things, are
emblems by which God through nature teaches us how frail we are; at the
longest, how short our days. What need, therefore, there is to seize the
passing moments - seeking the Lord while he is to be found.
We put this off
by taking a wrong measure of our days. There are standard measures, imperial
measures, as they are called, by which the business of our shops and markets,
selling and buying, the transactions of commerce, are regulated. And if men
would only be persuaded to regulate the business of their souls, the
transactions between them, their conscience, and their God, by the royal
standard and measure of human life, with what earnestness should we now seek
the Lord? what crowds would throng the door of mercy - each one trembling lest
it should be shut before he got in!' But, alas, many take a false measure; and
conclude that there is no hurry; no need of haste in seeking salvation. For
example, My father, says one man, lived to such and such an age-my grandfather
was an old man before he died - I am come of a long-lived race ; and such
persons, taking the age of their ancestors as the measure of their life, count
on many years, and time enough left to seek a Saviour. Another says, I enjoy
the best of health, my constitution is sound my frame is robust; no drunkard
nor libertine, nor given to any excess, my habits are temperate; every thing
about me is favourable to longevity. And so, a every child hopes to be a youth,
and every youth man, such men expect to reach old age; while old men
grey-headed, bent under the weight of years, and tottering on the brink of the
grave, count on growing older still. Why not? Don't they know people who have
lived to greater years than theirs? Thus men play with the great work my text
calls us to do - playing at a game where the devil will cheat them, and beat
them. They stake their salvation on a cast of the dice.
May God persuade
you to do otherwise! None else can. In vain the orator here plies his arts The
Devil laughs at oratory. He stands in more fear of a poor saint on his knees
than of the greatest eloquence of the pulpit. Man may produce a temporary,
surface impression, like the preaching friar who once resorted to a violent
stroke of rhetoric. Addressing an audience in Italy at Lent time, with great
power and pathos, on such topics as judgment and eternity, he drew a graph. In
picture of man's death - the dying struggles; the corpse; the funeral; the
grave; its loathsome horrors; the vanity it pours on youth, and all the bravery
and glory of this world. This done, amid the breathless silence of his
congregation, he wound all up by fixing his eyes on a lovely woman before him -
startling her, as, pulling from the folds of his gown a naked skull, he thrust
it, grinning, in her face, and said, Such you shall be! The effect was
electric. It drove the colour from her rosy cheek, and sent a thrill of horror
through the whole assembly - yet but a passing shock
This was summoning
Death to the pulpit. But I have no faith in his preaching. A daily preacher and
a great preacher, none seems to have a more drowsy, inattentive, unreflecting
audience. He can pluck a king from his throne in the midst of his guards; but
not a sinner from perishing. He severs the bond that binds husband and wife,
the mother to her darling, my spirit to this flesh; but not the feeblest tie
that binds a soul to sin. How solemn, startling, are the sermons he preaches on
my text, on the shortness of life, on the vanity of the world; yet there is no
blessing but with the Lord. With him is the residue of the Spirit - and without
that, whether Death or dying man be the preacher, sermons are seed without the
shower, Therefore with Moses, we address ourselves to God, praying, "So teach
us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts to wisdom " - seeking the
Lord while he may be found1 and calling upon him while he is near.