From Sorrow to Joy

"Your sorrow shall be turned into joy." John 16:20

Our Lord was very honest with His followers when any enlisted beneath His banner. He did not profess that they would find an easy service if they took Him to be their leader. Over and over again He stopped some young enthusiastic spirits by bidding them count the cost; and, when some said they would follow Him wherever He might go, He reminded them that though the foxes had holes and the birds of the air had nests, yet He had no where to lay His head. He never duped any man. He told all the truth to them, and He could honestly say to them, "If it were not so, I would have told you." He kept back nothing which it was needful for them to know in enlisting under His name.

In this verse He reminds His people that they will have sorrow. Let no Christian forget that. Be he old or young, sorrow is an appointed portion for all mankind. And there is a sorrow which is the especial benediction of the saints. They shall have that sorrow if none others do.

Oh, young spirit, you have just found a Savior, and your heart is very glad. Be glad while you may, but expect not that the sun will always shine. Reckon for days of rain and days of frost and days of tempest, for come they will, and I tell you of them now lest when they come they should be strange to you and overwhelm you with confusion.

And oh, child of God, you have for many years been prospering; you have walked in the light of God’s countenance, and the Lord has made a hedge about you and all that you have, until you have prospered in the land like the Patriarch of Uz. Remember that evil days will come even to you as they did to Job, and expect them, for "in the world you shall have tribulation." This part of the inheritance of children, namely, the rod, will be quite sure to fall to your portion if you be one of the sacred family.

Our Savior, in the verse before us, not only tells His disciples that they will have sorrow, but He warns them that sometimes they would have a peculiar sorrow. When the world was rejoicing they would be sorrowing.

"The world shall rejoice," says He, "but you shall weep and lament." Now this is sometimes hard for flesh and blood. We cannot understand this riddle — God’s people sighing and God’s enemies laughing — a saint on the dunghill with dogs licking his sores and a sinner clothed in scarlet and faring sumptuously every day — a child of God sighing and groaning, chastened every morning, and an heir of Hell making the world ring with his merriment! Can these things be so? Yes, they are so, and we must expect them so to be; and if we read this riddle by the eye of faith, we shall understand it. Yet we shall see God working even in these mysterious circumstances, and dealing out the best to the best after all, and giving still the worst to the worst in the long run.

Now, our Lord, in order to sustain His servants under the ill news of sorrow and of special sorrow, gave them two thoughts. The first He put into three words — "a little while." And there is a whole mint of golden consolation here — "a little while." When things are only temporary, we put up with them. If we are traveling, and we come to an uncomfortable inn, we are off tomorrow, and therefore we make no great noise about it.

A painful operation has to be performed, but, when the surgeon tells us it will only occupy a second or two, we submit to it. "A little while " — it takes off the edge of sorrow. If it be but a minute, and then afterwards there shall be never-ending blessing coming out of it, oh, then we glory in the tribulation, and count it not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed in us. Afflicted child of God, I commend to you those three words, "a little while." I beseech you to roll them under your tongue as a sweet morsel when your mouth is filled with the wormwood of sorrow. "A little while," and after that little while is over then it shall be "forever with the Lord." The other reflection which He gave them for their comfort is that which is furnished by our text, "Your sorrow shall be turned into joy." May God the Spirit give us comfort while we think over these words.

And first, brethren, this language was strictly true with regard to the remarkable sorrow which was then coming upon them when our Lord spoke. You know the chapter. The Lord had been telling them of His death. They had been sitting around the table, and He had revealed to them the fact that He was about to be delivered into the hands of wicked men and be crucified, and that this would make them weep and lament; but concerning this He says, "Your sorrow shall be turned into joy." We have also another sorrow coming out of that, namely, the sorrow that our risen Lord has gone away from us, has risen from Mount Olive and left His Church a widow; yet that sorrow, too, is turned into joy. Let us speak, then, about those two things.

You will soon see before you, brethren, a sacred feast. We are preparing tonight to come around the table on which we have the bread and wine which celebrate our Savior’s death. Now, it is a very pleasing thought that to celebrate the death of Christ we have not an ordinance that is full of sorrow. There is no rubric which tells us that we are to come clothed in mourning, that we are to come together as to a funeral, that dirges are to be sung, that violet colors, or such as represent sorrow are to be used. On the contrary, the ordinance which commemorates and shows the death of Christ is one of joy, if properly used. We come around a table, and sit there at our ease and eat and drink, for the death which was so sorrowful is turned into joy, and the memorial of it is meant to set it forth not as it was on the sorrowful side, but as it is to us on the joyful side. Our sorrow is in the symbol turned into joy.

Now, let us think of the sorrow of Christ’s death a moment. It was great sorrow to see Him suffer, sorrow unspeakable to see Him die. You mothers who love your sons, what a sword would have gone through your hearts if it had been your son who was nailed to the tree! You brothers who love your brothers, what pangs would have rent your spirit if he had been your brother who was hanging there. We would, if it had been possible, have spared Him the thirst, have spared Him the shame and spittle; we would have spared Him the nails and spared Him the crown of thorns. We can never think of His sufferings without smiting upon our breast with grief and saying — "Alas! my sins, my cruel sins, His chief tormentors were!" And as we look on His sufferings we ask: Oh, why should man offend, And make the Lord his Savior die?

Bitter ought to be our regret that ever we should have wandered from the path of right and made it necessary that our wanderings should be laid upon the Shepherd’s head. Woe, woe, woe unspeakable, that the elect of God should thus have multiplied their transgressions and have compelled their Savior to be smitten even to death for their sakes!

We sorrow, too, from another thought that in the death of Christ, sin for a time appeared to get the mastery over goodness. There He was, the perfect Man, content until they had washed their hands in His blood. When I see Him upon the cross, I seem to feel as if Satan, the old serpent, had bitten the heel of truth and poisoned it. I begin to tremble for truth and righteousness when I see thus the pure and perfect One laid low in the dust, but all these three sorrows put together, for His sufferings, for our sins and for the temporary triumph of evil, are at once turned into joy when we know that now the Savior has finished the atoning work, that He is accepted of His Father, that He has crushed the old dragon’s head, that He has given to sin and death and Hell a total defeat.

Brethren, there is nothing to sorrow for when we look at the cross now, for Jesus is again alive; He has glory about Him that He had not, and could not have had, if He had not stooped to conquer and bowed His head to death. The man Christ Jesus now sits at the right hand of the Father exalted far above principalities and powers, and every name that is named. He sees of the travail of His soul, and He is satisfied, and instead of mournful dirges we say, "Bring forth Miriam’s timbrel yet again, and let us sing unto the Lord, for He has triumphed gloriously! The horse and his rider has He cast into the sea. All the host of His enemies has He drowned in the Red Sea of His atoning blood."

Moreover, brethren, we are gainers now. It is true our sin crucified Him, but our sin is gone. The last act of sin was sin’s own destruction. It pulled down the house upon itself like Samson, and there it died. Our sin is put away by the death of Christ. He has "finished transgression, and made an end of sin." And as for truth and righteousness, they are gainers, too. Now, on the cross the crisis of the great battle comes. Now is the prince of this world cast out. Now do righteousness and holiness and truth win the day, and that forever. Glory be unto God, we come to the memorial of the death of Christ as to a festival. Our sorrow is turned into joy.

And as to our Lord’s going away from us into Heaven, it does at first sight wear a very sorrowful aspect. We should be glad if He should occupy that chair tonight and say, "Take, eat; this is My body." Oh, what a happy crowd would you all be who love Him, if He stood in this pulpit tonight and showed you His hands and His feet. We would stand at the posts of the doors by the week together to get a sight of Him. If He had His throne in Jerusalem this day, what pilgrimages would we make if we might but come anywhere near His blessed person, and might kiss the very dust He trod upon! For what a precious Lord was He! Oh, in our times of sorrowing, if we could but once see His face, those dear lustrous eyes that seem to say, "I know your sorrows, for I have felt the same," that blessed countenance that would speak consolation, though it said not a word, and would say to every mourner, "I will help you. I have borne your burden of old " — would not it be a joy to see Him? Surely I should be glad enough to cease my ministry, and you might be glad enough, however useful you might be, to give up your work as the stars hide their diminished heads when the sun rises.

Next Part From Sorrow to Joy 2

Back to Charles Spurgeon