We know the force of such an exhortation in earthly things. We know by experience how light is the labour which leads to rest, how possible it is to smile through present tears at the prospect of coming joy; what pains, and self-denials, and dangers, and encounters, are readily embraced by those whom ambition prompts, and approval cheers, and reward awaits. Nothing is too hard to bear, nothing too dear to relinquish, nothing too formidable to meet, nothing too much to do; the hands that hung down are lifted up, the sorrow is banished, the toil becomes pleasure, we rush to the fight, we delight in the race, forgetting the past, disregarding the present, hastening onward to the future, the rest, the victory, the prize, the glory. It is easy, then—not altogether, but comparatively—to obey the precept, “Be careful for nothing” in view of the prospect, “The Lord is at hand.”
But, after all, I cannot but think that something better than a prospect is hinted at in the text. The apostle goes on to urge, “In everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.” He does not say, “Make light of present cases, on account of coming consolation.” He does not bid the downcast lift up their eyes to the hills, whence by and by cometh their help. It is not “Bear, endure, encounter in hope,” but, “Get rid of what burthens you, by laying it upon Him, Who is near, by your side now, to take it. Be careful for nothing; put every care upon God (the Lord who is at hand to take it), by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving.” I say this is something better than a prospect; better, because of its superior influence, and better, because of the immediate relief. The teaching of Advent, all important as it is, too often affects but little such poor creatures of the present as we are. We are exhorted to look back to the first coming of Christ, to see what He suffered and did for us, what a foundation He laid for us to build on. We are exhorted to look forward to the second advent, to consider what Christ will do, to anticipate the glorious completion of us in Him as the building of God. We obey, and we are moved to faint gratitude for the one, to faint hope of the other. The retrospect and the prospect considered, we both see from what rock we were hewn, and into how beautiful a fabric we shall be fashioned; and, unless we are very incapable of feeling, in the view of past and future, we strive to accept thankfully and to sanctify duly the present. But, oh! how little constraining is the influence of a Saviour who once visited the earth, of a Judge who shall by and by visit it! How dim is the remembrance of long past mercies! how distant is the prospect of heavenly consolations! Earth is now present with all its attractions and rewards. The world, the flesh, and the devil are now assailing and afflicting us with their many temptations. How can we resist the seen, and heard, and felt fascinations? How can we fill up the present void, and lull the present pain, and endure the pressing trial, by proposing to ourselves the hopes of the future? Does the promise of food to-morrow fill the hungry to-day? Does the sight of the physician’s prescription on the instant stay the pain and progress of inflammation? Will a drowning man float till by and by a rope is brought and thrown to him? Will a discomfited army rally and conquer, because reinforcements at some future time will reach the field? In each of these cases, the prospect will have some influence, but will it be adequate to the occasion? Must not the present be met by the present? Do we not need, besides a Saviour of the past, and a Judge of the future, a Lord of the present? Yes, verily, and we are assured that we have Him in the words, “The Lord is at hand,” and advised how to avail ourselves of Him in what follows, “Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.”
We are too apt to have but a religion of the future; to forget that there is at hand a Lord and Helper; to act as though the first opportunity of serving God were in the hour of death, as though the blessings of reward and favour were only to be had in heaven; to treat God, in short, as if He were only the God of a future world. Such teaching as that of the text reproves and corrects us. As other passages of Holy Writ instruct us to make God the aim of this present life, using life as an apprentice-time to the profession of Christianity, as a season wherein to prove ourselves and be proved, and to set forth His glory; “Whether we live, we live unto the Lord.” “Whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God;” so the text bids us make God the guide and supporter of this life. “In everything by prayer, with supplication, and thanksgiving, let your requests be made known as to God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”
This is what we want to feel and act upon, that God is a God at hand, and not a God afar off; that we may now cast all our care upon Him, knowing that He careth for us; that if we lay our burthen upon the Lord, He will now sustain us: that if we commit our way unto Him, He will bring it to pass; that He waits to be gracious, not till this life is over, but only till we make known our requests, till we pray and supplicate, and give thanks. In proportion as we do not realise and act upon these assurances, we are blind to many of the charms, and insensible to many of the helps and comforts of our holy religion: we frustrate, too, the fulfilment in ourselves of the truth, that godliness has the promise of the life that now is: we run the risk of becoming earthly-minded, of being swallowed up of overmuch sorrow, of being cumbered with many cares, of being snared away and taken captive by the devil, of making shipwreck of our faith.
O brethren, do not suppose that God only dwells on the margin of the haven, that we are left to steer our course, to buffet with the waves, to struggle against the storm, to repair the shivered mast, to stop the leakages, to sail into the harbour, and let down the anchor, and disembark upon the shore before He meets us. With Him as our Captain we are to set out. He as our pilot must guide us. He must rule the waves and bring us through them. The way is His, as the haven is His; unless He is with us throughout the first, we shall never reach the last. Grace is no reserved blessing. Heaven is no distant home. Grace is ever to be had if we will seek it. Heaven is everywhere, if we will but realise it, for where God is, is heaven.
But God is not manifest to all. His help is not given unsought. The eye of faith alone can see Him, the cry of faith alone be heard. As He will be served for reward, so will He be asked for grace: we must be alert to see what help we want; we must be prompt to seek it. We must acknowledge Him, or He will not guide us. We must cast our care upon Him, or He will not take it. Unless we are careful for nothing, because we have committed our cares to Him, we must be full of cares, harassed by them, troubled, afflicted, distressed; or, being careless, we shall be deemed worthless, and left to drift upon shoals and into quicksands, and to sink in the gulf of destruction.
Do I speak to those who are careful for many things? I do not mean those who are concerning themselves about worldly schemes, who would increase their wealth, their power, or their pleasure, who, regarding earth as their home, and resolving to make the most of it, are laying themselves out for many days, proposing to pull down their barns and build greater, to make to themselves a name, who are intent upon what they shall eat and drink, and wherewithal they shall be clothed, how they shall get their full of pleasure, how they shall cull all the advantages, and avoid all the disagreeables of life. As the minister of God, I have nothing to do with these, further than to cry out upon their folly and their sin, and to warn them that unless they repent and relinquish their cares, they shall be consumed by them. But do I speak to those who setting before them as the business of life, the service of God, as the end of life, the glory of heaven, are yet, by personal infirmity, by peculiar exigencies, and difficulties, and anxieties, by a frowning or fascinating world, by the wiles of Satan or by any other means, so troubled, so distracted, so drawn off from the pursuit of their object, and the entertaining of their hopes, that they find themselves carnal when they would be spiritual, standing still when they would be moving on, clinging to earth when they would be rising to heaven, waging war when they would be enjoying peace? Do I speak to those whose weak and carnal nature will not be enlisted in the hearty pursuit of godliness; whose crying temporal wants distract, and deafen, and deaden the yearnings of their better nature; whose occupation in the world seems to contend, and too successfully, for the best of their thoughts and aims, whose natural losses and deprivations sadden and absorb them, creating a void which they cannot fill, taking away a guide whom they used to look to, a support upon which they were wont to lean; whose patient labours in well-doing have failed of success; whose good is evil spoken of; whose many cares to train aright the children whom God gave them, have been repaid by waywardness; whose conscientious well-doing has brought upon them what should rather be the reward of ungodliness; who, in short, have not found in religion what they hoped for and honestly sought, and who cannot render to religion what they would? Do I speak to these? Well! I ask, Have you sought to get rid of care, by casting it upon the Lord? or have you rather asked human counsel, and leant upon human support, and hewn out for yourselves cisterns, and built for yourselves a refuge, instead of running into the refuge of God? Have you animated yourselves only by the thought of distant help, of future peace? Have you lost sight of the Lord at hand, the God of Providence, knowing, causing or assenting to, and waiting to guide, as you ask or ask not, the circumstances which try you? Have you realised that nothing happens but by His consent, and that His consent is given or withheld, not by what He sees of you, but by what He hears from you? Do you pray—not simply uttering certain words put into your mouths in Church formularies, or books of private devotion, not framing acts of general adoration, of vague acknowledgments of dependence and prayer for blessings, but presenting yourselves, in the utterance of your own feelings, as in all things the servants of His will, the dependents and petitioners of His grace? Do you supplicate? Is each ascertained want laid before Him in all its detail? Is every hindrance, every difficulty, every desire made known to Him as soon as perceived by yourselves? Is your care cast upon Him? Is He besought to take it, to relieve you of it, to tell you what to do respecting it? Can you say of all that now tries you, that nothing is uncommunicated to Him, no relief, no guidance unsought? And do you in everything give thanks. Ah, here, brethren, is the test! Here doubtless will many of you, who are clear hitherto, be obliged to plead guilty. You do not give thanks. You recognise God as Him from whom you may seek all. You do not sufficiently acknowledge what you have received. Of many special gifts, of power to bear with many trials, of guidance in various difficulties, of blessings continued and troubles not made worse (an important item), you make no acknowledgment. You know of many blessings for which you ought to be grateful: you may guess at many more, and besides there are many which you do not know, and cannot guess at, which yet doubtless have been poured out upon you, or at least have not been taken away from you. What of these? What of everything good in itself, or capable of being made good? What of the temptations, what of the afflicting providences of which you are the objects? You do not think, perhaps, that these are things to be grateful for: but, remember, the command is, “In everything with thanksgiving.” Yes, the prayer, without the thanksgiving, is not prayer. It is only part dependence. It asks, it does not acknowledge. It does not rejoice that God is yet operating; that He is chastening if He is not rewarding; that therefore, you are still the creatures of His providence, and may hope for blessing if you do not frustrate it.
O mend all that is amiss, quicken all that is slow, revive all that is ready to perish. The Lord is at hand. Cast all your care upon Him. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not to your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths. In everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. See Him by faith Who is invisible to natural eye. Lean on Him Whom the arm of flesh cannot touch. Speak to Him in all your circumstances of weal or woe, of trial or blessing. Pray to Him for what you want, and acknowledge all that you receive, of whatever kind, and ask Him what use to make of it. So rid yourselves of your cares, and then—I do not say that you shall be left without trials, for God does not promise that, rather does He lead us to expect trials as the signs and pledges of His love, but I do say that He will give you nothing, and leave you nothing, but what is good for your personal happiness and your eternal interest, and that in every trial, whether sent by Him, or allowed to be inflicted by the agents of evil, He will give you support, and guidance, and ardent hope, and abundant consolation; yea, He will bestow on you His peace which passeth understanding, and which, whatever your circumstances, shall assuredly keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus, unto eternal salvation.
SERMON II.
JUDGMENT HERE AND HEREAFTER.
Malachi, ii., 17.
Where is the God of Judgment?