Carl wrote:
>
> This is more of a set of challenges by Dwight Moody than your typical
Sunday
> sermon. He challenges three sets of which he refers to as "the professed
> Christians, the Backsliders, and the Ungodly." When you read this, take
up
> his challenges if you have the courage and fortitude.
>
> May God bless,
> Carl
> my website -- http://www.nettally.com/saints/
> my blog -- http://www.anniemayhem.com/cgi-bin/wordpress/
>
> ---
>
> Where Art Thou?
He may well ask !
This particular god is in good company, along with tens of
thousands of man's other gods - the total we have created
since early times when we could speak in simple tongues will
never be known, but we can be sure that it exceeds tens of thouands....
.......so let us by all means ask....
"Where are though"
> by D.L. Moody
>
> The very first thing that happened after the news reached heaven of the
fall
> of man, was that God came straight down to seek out the lost one. As He
> walks through the garden in the cool of the day, you can hear Him
calling
> "Adam! Adam! Where art thou?" It was the voice of grace, of mercy, and
of
> love. Adam ought to have taken the seeker's place, for he was the
> transgressor. He had fallen, and he ought to have gone up and down Eden
> crying, "My God! my God! where art Thou?" But God left heaven to seek
> through the dark world for the rebel who had fallen - not to hurl him
from
> the face of the earth, but to plan him an escape from the misery of his
sin.
> And he finds him - where? Hiding from his Creator among the bushes of
the
> garden.
>
> The moment a man is out of communion with God, even the professed child
of
> God, he wants to hide away from Him. When God left Adam in the garden,
he
> was in communion with his Creator, and God talked with him; but now that
he
> has fallen, he has no desire to see his Creator, he has lost communion
with
> his God. He cannot bear to see Him, even to think of Him, and he runs to
> hide from God. But to his hiding place his Maker follows him. "Where art
> thou, Adam? Where art thou?"
>
> Six thousand years have passed away, and this text has come rolling down
the
> ages. I doubt whether there has been anyone of Adam's sons who has not
heard
> it at some period or other of his life - sometimes in the midnight hour
> stealing over him - "Where am I? Who am I? Where am I going? and what is
> going to be the end of this?" I think it is well for a man to pause and
ask
> himself that question. I would have you ask it, little boy; and you,
little
> girl; and you, old man with locks turning gray, and eyes growing dim,
and
> natural force abating, you who will soon be in another world. I do not
ask
> you where you are in the sight of your neighbors; I do not ask you where
you
> are in the sight of your friends; I do not ask you where you are in the
> sight of the community in which you live. It is of very little account
where
> we are in the sight of one another, it is of very little account what
men
> think of us; but it is of vast im****tance what God thinks of us - it is
of
> vast im****tance to know where men are in the sight of God; and that is
the
> question now. Am I in communion with my Creator, or out of communion? If
I
> am out of communion, there is no peace, no joy, no happiness. No man on
the
> face of the earth, who was out of communion with his Creator, ever knew
what
> peace, and joy, and happiness, and true comfort are. He is a foreigner
to
> it. But when we are in communion with God, there is light all around our
> path. So ask yourselves this question. Do not think I am preaching to
your
> neighbors, but remember I am trying to speak to you, to everyone of you
as
> if you were alone. It was the first question put to man after his fall,
and
> it was a very small audience that God had - Adam and his wife. But God
was
> the preacher; and although they tned to hide, the words came home to
them.
> Let them come home to you now. You may think that your life is hid, that
God
> does not know anything about you. But he knows our lives a great deal
better
> than we do; and His eye has been bent upon us from our earliest
childhood
> until now.
>
> "Where art thou?" I should like to divide my audience into three cl*****
-
> the professed Christians, the Backsliders, and the Ungodly.
>
> First, I would like to ask the professors this question, or rather let
God
> ask it - Where art thou? What is my position in the church, and among my
> circle of acquaintance? Do my friends know me to be, out and out, on the
> Lord's side? You may have been a professing Christian for twenty years,
> perhaps thirty, perhaps forty years. Well, where are you tonight? Are
you
> making progress towards heaven? And can you give a reason for the hope
that
> is within you? Suppose I were to ask those who were really Christians
here
> to rise, would you be ashamed to stand up? Suppose I should ask every
> professed child of God here, "If you should be cut down by the hand of
> death, have you good reason to believe you would be saved?" Would you be
> willing to stand up before God and man, and say that you have good
reason to
> believe you are passed from death unto life? Or would you be ashamed?
Run
> your mind back over the past years: would it be consistent for you to
say,
> "I am a Christian;" and would your life correspond with your profession?
It
> is not what we say so much as how we live. Actions speak louder than
words.
> Do your shopmates know that you are a Christian? Do your family know? Do
> they know you to be out and out on the Lord's side? Let every professed
> Christian ask, Where am I in the sight of God? Is my heart loyal to the
King
> of heaven? Is my life here as it should be in the community I live in?
Am I
> a light in this dark world? Christ says, "Ye are My witnesses." Christ
was
> the Light of the world, and the world would not have the true Light; the
> world rose up and put out the Light, and now Christ says, "I leave you
down
> here to testify of Me; I leave you down here as My witnesses." That is
what
> the apostle meant when he said that Christians are to be living
epistles,
> known and read of all men. Then, am I standing up for Jesus as I should
in
> this dark world? If a man is for God, let him say so. If a man is for
God,
> let him come out and be on God's side; and if he is for the world, let
him
> be in the world. This serving God and the world at the same time - this
> being on both sides at the same time - is just the curse of Christianity
at
> the present time. It retards the progress of Christianity more than any
> other thing. "If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and
take
> up his cross daily and follow Me."
>
> I have heard of a great many people who think if they are united to the
> church, and have made one profession, that will do for all the rest of
their
> days. But there is a cross for everyone of us daily. Oh, child of God,
where
> are you? If God should appear to you tonight in your bedroom and put the
> question, what would be your answer? Could you say, "Lord, I am serving
Thee
> with my whole heart and strength; I am improving my talents and
preparing
> for the kingdom to come?" When I was in England in 1867, there was a
> merchant who came over from Dublin, and was talking with a business man
in
> London; and as I happened to look in, he introduced me to the man from
> Dublin. Alluding to me, the latter said to the former, "Is this young
man
> all O O?" Said the London man, "What do you mean by O O?" Replied the
Dublin
> man, "Is he Out-and-Out for Christ?" I tell you it burned down into my
soul.
> It means a good deal to be O O for Christ; but that is what all
Christians
> ought to be, and their influence would be felt on the world very soon,
if
> men who are on the Lord's side would come out and take their stand, and
lift
> up their voices in season and out of season. As I have said, there are a
> great many in the church who make one profession, and that is about all
you
> hear of them; and when they come to die you have to go and hunt up some
> musty old church records to know whether they were Christians or not.
God
> won't do that. I have an idea that when Daniel died, all the men in
Babylon
> knew whom he served. There was no need for them to hunt up old books.
His
> life told his story. What we want is men with a little courage to stand
up
> for Christ. When Christianity wakes up, and every child that belongs to
the
> Lord is willing to speak for Him, is willing to work for Him, and, if
need
> be, willing to die for Him, then Christianity will advance, and we shall
see
> the work of the Lord prosper. There is one thing which I fear more than
> anything else, and that is the dead cold formalism of the Church of God.
> Talk about the isms! Put them all together, and I do not fear them so
much
> as dead, cold formalism. Talk about the false isms! There is none so
> dangerous as this dead, cold formalism, which has come right into the
heart
> of the Church. There are so many of us just sleeping and slumbering
while
> souls all around are peri****ng. I believe honestly that we professed
> Christians are all half asleep. Some of us are beginning to rub our eyes
and
> to get them half-opened, but as a whole we are asleep.
>
> There was a little story going the round of the American press that made
a
> great impression upon me as a father. A father took his little child out
> into the field one Sabbath, and, it being a hot day, he lay down under a
> beautiful shady tree. The little child ran about gathering wild flowers
and
> little blades of grass, and coming to its father and saying, "Pretty!
> pretty!" At last the father fell asleep, and while he was sleeping the
> little child wandered away. When he awoke, his first thought was, "Where
is
> my child?" He looked all around, but he could not see him. He shouted at
the
> top of his voice, but all he heard was the echo of his own voice.
Running to
> a little hill, he looked around and shouted again. No response! Then
going
> to a precipice at some distance, he looked down, and there upon the
rocks
> and briars, he saw the mangled form of his loved child. He rushed to the
> spot, took up the lifeless corpse and hugged it to his bosom, and
accused
> himself of being the murderer of his child. While he was sleeping his
child
> had wandered over the precipice. I thought as I heard that, what a
picture
> of the church of God!
>
> How many fathers and mothers, how many Christian men, are sleeping now
while
> their children wander over the terrible precipice right into the
bottomless
> pit of hell. Father, where is your boy tonight? It may be just out there
in
> some public house; it may be reeling through the streets; it may be
pressing
> onwards to a drunkard's grave. Mother, where is your son? Is he in the
house
> of the publican drinking away his soul - everything that is dear and
sacred
> to him? Do you know where your boy is? Father, you have been a professed
> Christian for forty years; where are your children tonight? Have you
lived
> so godly, and so Christ-like, that you can say, Follow me as I followed
> Christ? Are those children walking in wisdom; are they on their way to
> glory; have they been gathered into the fold of Christ; are their names
> written in the Lamb's Book of Life? How many fathers and mothers today
would
> be able to answer? Did you ever stop to think that you were to blame;
that
> you had not been faithful to your children? Depend upon it, as long as
the
> church is living so much like the world, we cannot expect our children
to be
> brought into the fold. Come, O Lord, and wake up every mother, and may
> everyone of us who are parents feel the worth of the souls of the
children
> that God has given us. May they never bring our gray hairs with sorrow
to
> the grave, but may they become a blessing to the church and to the
world.
> Not long ago the only daughter of a wealthy friend of mine sickened and
> died. The father and mother stood by her dying bed. He had spent all his
> time in ac***ulating wealth for her; she had been introduced into gay
and
> fa****onable society; but she had been taught nothing of Christ. As she
came
> to the brink of the river of death, she said, "Won't you help me; it is
very
> dark, and the stream is bitter cold." They wrung their hands in grief,
but
> could do nothing for her; and the poor girl died in darkness and
despair.
> What was their wealth to them? And yet, you mothers and fathers are
doing
> the same thing in London today, by ignoring the work God has given you
to
> do. I beseech you, then, each one of you, begin to labor now for the
souls
> of your children!
>
> A young man, some time ago, lay dying, and his mother thought he was a
> Christian. One day, passing his room door she heard him say, "Lost!
lost!
> lost!" The mother ran into the room and cried, "My boy, is it possible
you
> have lost your hope in Christ, now you are dying?" "No, mother, it is
not
> that; I have a hope beyond the grave, but I have lost my life. I have
lived
> twenty-four years, and done nothing for the Son of God, and now I am
dying.
> My life has been spent for myself; I have lived for this world, and now,
> while I am dying, I have given myself to Christ; but my life is lost."
Would
> it not be said of many of us, if we should be cut down, that our lives
have
> been almost a failure - perhaps entirely a failure as far as leading
anyone
> else to Christ is concerned? Young lady! are you working for the Son of
God?
> Are you trying to win some soul to Christ? Have you tried to get some
friend
> or companion to have her name written in the book of life? Or would you
say,
> "Lost, lost! long years have rolled away since I became a child of God,
and
> I have never had the privilege of leading one soul to Christ?" If there
is
> one professed child of God who never had the joy of leading even one
soul
> into the kingdom of God, oh! let him begin at once. There is no greater
> privilege on earth. And I believe, my friends, there has never been a
time,
> in our day, at least, when work for Christ was more needed than at
present.
> I do not believe there ever was in your day or mine a time when the
Spirit
> of God was more poured out upon the world. There is not a part of
> Christendom where the work is not being carried on; and it looks very
much
> as if the glad tidings were just going to take, as it were, a fresh
start,
> and go round the globe. Is it not time that the Church of God should
wake up
> and come to the help of the Lord as one man, and strive to beat back
those
> dark waves of death that roll through our streets, bearing upon their
bosom
> the noblest and the best we have? Oh, may God wake up the Church! And
let us
> trim our lights, and go forth and work for the kingdom of His Son.
>
> Now, Secondly, let me talk a little while to those who have gone back
into
> the world - to the Backslider. It may be you came to some great city a
few
> years ago a professed Christian. You were member of a church once, and a
> teacher in the Sabbath school, perhaps; but when you came among
strangers
> you thought you would just wait a little - perhaps take a class by and
by.
> So you gave up teaching in the Sunday school; you gave up all work for
> Christ. Then in your new church you did not receive the attention or the
> warm welcome that you expected. and you got into the habit of staying
away.
> You have gone so far now, that you are found in the theater, perhaps,
and
> the companion of blasphemers and drunkards. Perhaps I am speaking now to
> someone who has been away from his father's house for many years. Come,
now,
> backslider, tell me, are you happy? Have you had one happy hour since
you
> left Christ? Does the world satisfy you, or those husks that you have
got in
> the far country? I have traveled a good deal, but I never found a happy
> backslider in my life. I never knew a man who was really born of God
that
> ever could find the world satisfy him afterwards. Do you think the
Prodigal
> Son was satisfied in that foreign country? Ask the prodigals in this
city if
> they are truly happy. You know they are not. "There is no peace, saith
my
> God to the wicked." There is no joy for the man in rebellion against his
> Creator. Supposing he has tasted the heavenly gift, and been in
communion
> with God, and had sweet fellow****p with the King of Heaven, and had
pleasant
> hours of service for the Master, but has backslidden, is it possible
that he
> can be happy? If he is, it is good evidence he was never really
converted.
> If a man has been born again, and has received the heavenly nature, this
> world can never satisfy the cravings of his nature. Oh, backslider, I
pity
> you! But I want to tell you that the Lord Jesus pities you a good deal
more
> than anyone else can. He knows how bitter your life is; He knows how
dark
> your life is; He wants you to come home. Oh, backslider, come home
tonight!
> I have a loving message from your Father. The Lord wants you, and calls
you
> back tonight Come home, oh wanderer, this night; return from the dark
> mountains of sin." Return, and your Father will give you a warm welcome.
I
> know that the devil has told you that God won't have anything to do with
> you, because you have wandered away. If that is true, there would be
very
> few men in heaven. David backslid; Abraham and Jacob turned away from
God; I
> do not believe there is a saint in heaven but at some time of his life
with
> his heart has backslidden from God. Perhaps not in his life, but in his
> heart. The prodigal's heart got into the far country before his body got
> there. Backslider! tonight come home. Your Father does not want you to
stay
> away. Think you the prodigal's father was not anxious for him to come
home
> all those long years he was there? Every year the father was looking and
> longing for him to return home. So God wants you to come home. I do not
care
> how far you have wandered away; the great Shepherd will receive you back
> into the fold tonight. Did you ever hear of a backslider coming home,
and
> God not willing to receive him? I have heard of earthly fathers and
mothers
> not being willing to receive back their sons; but I defy any man to say
he
> ever knew a really honest backslider want to get home, but God was
willing
> to take him in.
>
> A number of years ago, before any railway came into Chicago, they used
to
> bring in the grain from the Western prairies in wagons for hundreds of
> miles, so as to have it ****pped off by the Lakes. There was a father who
had
> a large farm out there, and who used to preach the gospel as well as
attend
> to his farm. One day, when church business engaged him, he sent his son
to
> Chicago with grain. He waited and waited for his boy to return, but he
did
> not come home. At last he could wait no longer, so he saddled his horse
and
> rode to the place where his son had sold the grain. He found that he had
> been there and got the money for the grain; then he began to fear that
his
> boy had been murdered and robbed. At last, with the aid of a detective,
they
> tracked him to a gambling den, where they found that he had gambled away
the
> whole of his money. In hopes of winning it back again, he then had sold
the
> team, and lost that money too. He had fallen among thieves, and like the
man
> who was going to Jericho, they stripped him, and then they cared no more
> about him. What could he do? He was ashamed to go home to meet his
father,
> and he fled. The father knew what it all meant. He knew the boy thought
he
> would be very angry with him. He was grieved to think that his boy
should
> have such feelings towards him. That is just exactly like the sinner. He
> thinks because he has sinned, God will have nothing to do with him. But
what
> did that father do? Did he say, "Let the boy go?" No, he went after him.
He
> arranged his business and started after the boy. That man went from town
to
> town, from city to city. He would get the ministers to let him preach,
and
> at the close he would tell his story. "I have got a boy who is a
wanderer on
> the face of the earth somewhere." He would describe his boy and say, "If
you
> ever hear of him or see him, will you not write to me?" At last he found
> that he had gone to California, thousands of miles away. Did that father
say
> "Let him go?" No; off he went to the Pacific coast, seeking the boy. He
went
> to San Francisco, and advertised in the newspapers that he would preach
at
> such a church on such a day. When he had preached he told his story, in
> hopes that the boy might have seen the advertisement and come to the
church.
> When he had done, away under the gallery there was a young man who
waited
> until the audience had gone out; then he came towards the pulpit. The
father
> looked, and saw it was that boy, and he ran to him, and pressed him to
his
> bosom. The boy wanted to confess what he had done, but not a word would
the
> father hear. He forgave him freely, and took him to his home once more.
>
> Oh, prodigal, you may be wandering on the dark mountains of sin, but God
> wants you to come home. The devil has been telling you lies about God;
you
> think he will not receive you back. I tell you, He will welcome you this
> minute if you will come. Say, "I will arise and go to my Father." May
God
> incline you to take this step. There is not one whom Jesus has not
sought
> far longer than that father. There has not been a day since you left Him
but
> he has followed you. I do not care what the past has been, or how black
your
> life, He will receive you back. Arise then, O backslider, and come home
once
> more to your Father's house.
>
> Not long ago, in Edinburgh, a lady who was an earnest Christian worker,
> found a young woman whose feet had taken hold of hell, and who was
pressing
> onwards to a harlot's grave. The lady begged her to go back to her home,
but
> she said no, her parents would never receive her. This Christian woman
knew
> what a mother's heart was; so she sat down and wrote a letter to the
mother,
> telling her how she had met her daughter, who was sorry, and wanted to
> return. The next post brought an answer back, and on the envelope was
> written, "Immediately - immediately!" That was a mother's heart. They
opened
> the letter. Yes, she was forgiven. They wanted her back, and they sent
money
> for her to come immediately. Sinner, that is the proclamation, "Come
> immediately". That is what the great and loving God is saying to every
> wandering sinner - immediately. Yes, backslider, come home tonight. He
will
> give you a warm welcome, and there will be joy in heaven over your
return.
> Come now, for everything is ready.
>
> A friend of mine said to me some time ago, Did you ever notice what the
> prodigal lost by going into that country? He lost his food. That is what
> every poor backslider loses. They get no manna from heaven. The Bible is
a
> closed book to them; they see no beauty in the Word of God.
>
> Then the prodigal lost his work. He was a Jew, and they made him take
care
> of swine; that was all loss for a Jew. So every backslider loses his
work.
> He cannot do anything for God; he cannot work for eternity. He is a
> stumbling block to the world. My friend, do not let the world stumble
over
> you into hell.
>
> The prodigal also lost his testimony. Who believed him? I can imagine
some
> of these men came along, natives of that country, and they saw this poor
> prodigal in his rags, barefooted and bareheaded. There he stands among
the
> swine and someone says to another, "Look at that poor wretch." "What,"
he
> says, "do you call me a poor wretch? My father is a wealthy man; he has
got
> more clothes in his wardrobe than you ever saw in your life. My father
is a
> man of great wealth and position." Do you suppose these men would
believe
> him? "That poor wretch the son of a wealthy man!" Not one of them would
> believe him. "If he had such a wealthy father he would go to him." So
with
> the backsliders; the world does not believe that they are the sons of a
> King. They say, "Why don't they go to Him, if there is bread enough and
to
> spare? Why don't they go home?"
>
> Then, another thing the prodigal lost was his home. He had no home in
that
> foreign country. As long as his money lasted, he was quite popular in
the
> public house and among his acquaintances; he had professed friends, but
as
> soon as his money was gone, where were his friends? That is the
condition of
> every poor backslider in London.
>
> But now I can imagine someone saying, "There would be little use of me
> attempting to come back. In a few days I should just be where I was
again. I
> should like very much to go to my Father's home again, but I'm afraid I
> wouldn't stay there." Well, just picture this scene. The poor prodigal
has
> got home, and the father has killed the fatted calf; and there they are,
> sitting at the table eating. I can imagine that was about the sweetest
> morsel he ever got - perhaps the nicest dinner he ever had in his life.
His
> father sits opposite; he is full of joy, and his heart is leaping within
> him. All at once he sees his boy weeping. "My son, what are you weeping
for?
> Are you not glad to have got home?" "Oh, yes, father; I never was so
glad as
> I am today: but I am so afraid I will go back into that foreign
country!"
> Why, you cannot imagine such a thing! When you have got one meal in your
> Father's house, you will never be inclined to wander away again.
>
> Now let me speak to the Third class. "If the righteous scarcely be
saved,
> where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?" Sinner, what is to
become of
> you? How shall you escape? "Where art thou?" Is it true that you are
living
> without God and without hope in the world? Did you ever stop to think
what
> would become of your soul if you should be taken away by a sudden stroke
of
> illness - where you would stand in eternity? I read that the sinner is
> without God, without hope, and without excuse. If you are not saved,
what
> excuse will you have to give? You cannot say that it is God's fault. He
is
> only too anxious to save you. I want to tell you tonight that you can be
> saved if you will. If you really want to pass from death to life, if you
> want to become an heir of eternal life, if you want to become a child of
> God, make up your mind this night that you will seek the kingdom of God.
I
> tell you, upon the authority of this Word, that if you seek the kingdom
of
> God you will find it. No man ever sought Christ with a heart to find Him
who
> did not find Him. I never knew a man make up his mind to have the
question
> settled, but it was settled soon. This last year there has been a solemn
> feeling stealing over me. I am what they call in the middle of life, in
the
> prime of life. I look upon life as a man who has reached the top of a
hill,
> and just begins to go down the other side. I have got to the top of the
> hill, if I should live the full term of life - threescore years and ten
-
> and am just on the other side. I am speaking to many now who are also on
the
> top of the hill, and I ask you, if you are not Christians, just to pause
a
> few minutes, and ask yourselves where you are. Let us look back on the
hill
> that we have been climbing. What do you see? Yonder is the cradle. It is
not
> far away. How short life is! It all seems but as yesterday. Look along
up
> the hill, and yonder is a tombstone; it marks the resting place of a
loved
> mother. When that mother died, did you not promise God that you would
serve
> Him? Did you not say that your mother's God should become your God? And
did
> you not take her hand in the stillness of the dying hour, and say, "Yes,
> mother, I will meet you in heaven!" And have you kept that promise? Are
you
> trying to keep it? Ten years have rolled away: fifteen years - but are
you
> any nearer God? Did the promise work any improvement in you? No, your
heart
> is getting harder: the night is getting darker; by and by death will be
> throwing its shadows round you. My friend, Where art thou? Look again. A
> little further up the hill there is another tombstone. It marks the
resting
> place of a little child. It may have been a little lovely girl - perhaps
her
> name was Mary; or it may have been a boy - Charley; and when that child
was
> taken from you, did you not promise God, and did you not promise the
child,
> that you would meet it in heaven? Is the promise kept? Think! Are you
still
> fighting against God? Are you still hardening your heart? Sermons that
would
> have moved you five years ago - do they touch you now?
>
> Once more look down the hill. Yonder there is a grave; you cannot tell
how
> many days, or weeks, or years it is away, you are hastening towards that
> grave. Even should you live the life allotted to man, many of you are
near
> the end, you are getting very feeble, and your locks are turning gray.
It
> may be the coffin is already made that this body shall be laid in; it
may be
> that the shroud is already waiting. My friend, is it not the height of
> madness to put off salvation so long? Undoubtedly I am speaking to some
who
> will be in eternity a week from now. In a large audience like this,
during
> the next week death will surely come and snatch some away; it may be the
> speaker, or it may be someone who is listening. Why put off the question
> another day? Why say to the Lord Jesus again tonight, "Go thy way for
this
> time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for Thee?" Why not
let
> him come in tonight? Why not open your heart, and say, "King of Glory,
come
> in?"
>
> Will there ever be a better op****tunity? Did not you promise ten,
fifteen,
> twenty, thirty years ago that you would serve God? Some of you said you
> would do it when you got married and settled down; some of you said you
> would serve Him when you were your own master. Have you attended to it?
>
> You know there are three steps to the lost world; let me give you their
> names. The first is Neglect. All a man has to do is to neglect
salvation,
> and that will take him to the lost world. Some people say, "What have I
> done!" Why, if you merely neglect salvation, you will be lost. I am on a
> swift river, and lying in the bottom of my little boat. Down yonder, ten
> miles below, is the great cataract. Everyone that goes over it perishes.
I
> need not row the boat down; I have only to pull in the oars, and fold my
> arms and neglect. So all that a man has to do is to fold his arms in the
> current of life, and he will drift onwards and be lost.
>
> The second step is Refusal. If I met you at the door and pressed this
> question on you, you would say, "Not tonight, Mr. Moody, not tonight;"
and
> if I repeated, "I want you to press into the kingdom of God," you would
> politely refuse: "I will not become a Christian tonight, thank you; I
know I
> ought, but I won't tonight."
>
> Then the last step is to Despise it. Some of you have already got on the
> lower round of the ladder. You despise Christ. You hate Christ, you hate
> Christianity; you hate the best people on the earth and the best friends
you
> have got; and if I were to offer you the Bible, you would tear it up and
put
> your foot upon it. Oh, despisers! you will soon be in another world.
Make
> haste and repent and turn to God. Now, on which step are you, my friend;
> neglecting, or refusing, or despising? Bear in mind that a great many
are
> taken off from the first step; they die in neglect. And a great many are
> taken away refusing. And a great many are on the last step, despising
> salvation.
>
> A few years ago they neglected, then they got to refuse; and now they
> despise Christianity and Christ. They hate the sound of the church bell;
> they hate the Bible and the Christian; they curse the very ground that
we
> walk on. But one more step and they are gone. Oh ye despisers, I set
before
> you life and death; which will you choose? When Pilate had Christ on his
> hands, he said, "What shall I do with him?" and the multitude cried out,
> "Away with Him! crucify Him!" Young men, is that your language tonight?
Do
> you say, "Away with this gospel! Away with Christianity! Away with your
> prayers, your sermons, your gospel sounds! I do not want Christ?" Or
will
> you be wise and say, "Lord Jesus, I want Thee, I need Thee, I will have
> Thee?" Oh, may God bring you to that decision!
|
