Our Life, Our Work, Our Change

Next Part Our Life, Our Work, Our Change 2

"All the days of my appointed time will I wait, until my change comes." Job 14:14.

Job was well near driven to desperation by the fearful torment of his bodily pains, by the exasperating remarks of his friends, and the cutting suggestion of his wife. It is no wonder if he became somewhat impatient. Never were words of complaint more excusable than in the sad case of Job when he cried, "O that you would hide me in the grave!" Everything that could make life bearable had been taken from him, and every evil which could make death desirable came upon him. Yet, after Job had uttered those exclamations, he seems to have been half ashamed of his weakness, and girding up his loins, he argues with himself, reasoning his soul into a cooler, calmer frame. Job looks his life in the face: he perceives that his warfare is severe, but he remembers it is but once, and that when once over and the victory won, there will be no more fighting; and therefore he encourages himself to put up with his present sorrows, and even with future evils, be they what they may, and registers this solemn resolution—far more glorious than the resolve of Alexander to conquer the world—to conquer himself, and to abide with patience the will of God. He fixed it steadfastly in his heart, that all his appointed days until a change should come, he would endure the divine decree with constancy of resignation.

None among us can afford to cast a stone at the patriarch for sighing and complaining, for we would not act one half so well ourselves. We are too much at times like Jonah; we turn cowards, and would fain flee from our work when it becomes arduous or yields us no honor. If we do not seek a ship to convey us to Tarshish, we sigh for a seraph to bear us to heaven. This huge Nineveh has made most of us quail in times of depression. I fear that frequently we act like lineal descendants of those children of Ephraim who, being armed and carrying bows, turned back in the day of battle. We shrink as a bone out of joint, which slips aside under pressure. We are not only like Jacob, who halted upon one thigh, but we limp upon both legs at times. We are often disinclined for conflict, and pine for rest, crying, "When will the day be over? When shall we be perfectly at ease? It is against such a spirit as this that we must struggle; and to help us in the struggle, it seemed to me to be good to consider the text now before us; and to that end may God bless it, that we maybe "steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord." "All the days of my appointed time will I wait, until my change comes." We shall call your attention this morning, first, to the aspect of life which Job gives us; secondly, to his estimate of our work; and thirdly, to his view of the future.

I. First, let us observe THE ASPECT UNDER WHICH JOB REGARDED THIS MORTAL LIFE. He calls it an "appointed time," or, as the Hebrew has it, "a warfare." Observe that Job styles our life a time. Blessed be God, that this present state is not an eternity! What though its conflicts may seem long, they must have an end. We are in the finite state at present, in which all grief's have their closes and conclusions. Long as the night may last, it must yield in due season to the light of the morning. The winter may drag its weary length along, but the spring is hard upon its heels; the tide may ebb out until nothing remains but leagues of mud, and we lament that all the bright blue deep will vanish, but it is not so, the tide must flow again, for God has so decreed. Our whole life is brief indeed. Compared with eternity, a mere span, a hand's-breadth. From the summits of eternity, how like a flying moment will this transient life appear. The pains of this mortal life will seem to be a mere pin's-prick to us when we get into the joys never ending and overflowing. And the toils of this life will be as child's play when we reach the everlasting rest. Let us then, my brethren, judge immortal judgment; lets us not weigh our troubles in the ill-adjusted scales of this poor human life, but let us use the shekel of eternity. We are born for eternity; and although it is true we have to struggle through this one brief hour of toil and conflict, an hour with our God in glory will make up for it all. "I reckon," said that master of heavenly arithmetic, the apostle Paul, who was never wrong in his reckoning, "that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory, which shall be revealed in us." The longest and most sorrowful life is but a "time." Whisper that simple truth into the ear of the languishing sufferer; tell this glad truth to the son of sorrow, poor and despised; tell it to every daughter of grief, life is but a time; it is not eternity. O mourner, contrast your present sorrows with the griefs of lost spirits, to whom there is no time—who are cast away forever—who cannot expect a termination to their bitter grief's, but who see this word written in letters of fire before their weeping eyes, "Forever! forever! forever! forever!" Job also calls our life an "appointed" time. You know who appointed your days. You did not appoint them for yourself, and therefore you can have no regrets about the appointment. Neither did Satan appoint it, for the keys of hell and of death do not hang at his girdle.

"An angel's arm can't cast me to the grave,

Millions of angels cannot keep me there."

To the almighty God belong the issues of death! He alone can speak the irrevocable word, and bid the spirit return to God who gave it. God, alone can wing the arrow that shall end this mortal existence: until he puts his hand to the bow, all the archers of earth and hell shall shoot in vain. Our pilgrimage has an appointed beginning and end. In yonder hour-glass, which measures your existence, the sands which trickle to the lower globe were all measured into the upper bulb by the divine hand. There is not a sand too few, nor a grain too many. You shall find that God has appointed withexact wisdom, with profound knowledge, and with irreproachable love, all the days and the doings of your life. Remember that you will live out, but not outlive your allotted years. You will live up to the last minute, and neither plagues, nor pestilence's, nor dangers of flood, or field, or battle, can deprive you of the last second which God has measured out to you.

But beyond that boundary you shall not pass, though you take great care, and call in the physician, yet can you not add an inch of time to your determined termination. Inexorable death will make no tarrying, but perform his errand promptly when the Master sends him. "Then to the dust, return you must—Without delay."

Should not this cheer us—that the appointment of our lot has been made by a loving Father's prudence, and that the days and bounds of our habitation are not left to the winds of chance or to the waves of uncertainty, but are all decreed immutably by our Father who is in heaven. In the volume of the book our life-story is written—in that same volume wherein the Savior's covenant engagements were recorded. You will observe, dear friends, also that Job very wisely speaks of the "days" of our appointed time. It is a prudent thing to forbear the burden of life as a whole, and learn to bear it in the parcels into which providence has divided it. Let us live as life comes, namely, by the day. Our God does not trust us with so much life as a month at once—we live as the clock ticks, a second at a time. Is not that a wiser method of living rather than to perplex our heads by living by the month, or by the year? You have no promise for the year: the word of mercy runs, "As your days so your strength shall be." You are not commanded to pray for supplies by the year, but, "Give us this day our daily bread."

Said a good man to me the other day who had many troubles, who has borne them manfully to my knowledge, for these fifteen or twenty years, when I asked him how his patience had held out—"Ah," said he, "I said to my afflicted wife the other day, when the coals come in, it takes several big fellows to bring in the sacks, but yet our little kitchen-maid Mary, has brought the whole ton up from the cellar into our parlour; but she has done it a bucket-full at a time. She has as surely moved those tons of coal as ever did the wagons when they brought them in, but she has moved them by little and little, and done it easily." This is how to bear the troubles of life, a day's portion at a time. Wave by wave our trials come, and let us breast them one by one, and not attempt to buffet the whole ocean's billows at once. Let us stand as the brave old Spartan did, in the arena of the day, and fight the Persians as they come on one by one, thus shall we keep our adversities at bay, and overcome them as they advance in single file. But let us not venture into the plain amidst the innumerable hordes of Persians, or we shall speedily be swallowed up, and our faith and patience will be overcome. I would fain live by the day, and work by the day, and suffer by the day, until all my days are over, and I see the Ancient of Days in that land where days are lost in one eternal day, and the soul swims in seas of joy forever!

I must not fail to remind you of the Hebrew: "All the days of my warfare will I wait." Life is indeed a "warfare;" and just as a man enlists in our army for a term of years, and then his service runs out, and he is free, so every believer is enlisted in the service of life, to serve God until his enlistment is over, and we sleep in death. Our charge and our armor we shall put off together. Brethren, you are soldiers, enlisted when you believed in Jesus.Let me remind you that you are a soldier, you will be always at war, you will never have a furlough or conclude a treaty. Like the old knights who slept in their armor, you will be attacked even in your rest.

There is no part of the journey to heaven which is secure from the enemy, and no moment, not even the sweet rest of the Lord's-day, when the trumpet may not sound. Therefore, prepare yourselves always for the battle. "Put on the whole armor of God," and look upon life as a continued battle. Be surprised when you have not to fight; be wonderstruck when the world is peaceful towards you; be astonished when your old corruptions do not rise and assault you. You must travel with your swords always drawn, and you may as well throw away the scabbard, for you will never need it. You are a soldier who must always fight, and by the light of battle you must survey the whole of your life.

Taking these thoughts together as Job's view of mortal life, what then? Why, beloved, it is but once, as we have already said—we shall serve our God on earth in striving after his glory but once. Let us carry out the engagements of our enlistment honorably. He who enters into Her Majesty's service for a term of years, if he be an honorable man, resolves that he will act worthily, so long as he is in the ranks. So let it be with us: we shall never enter upon another war; let us wage the present warfare gloriously. We carry in our hands a sword, we have but to use it in one great life-battle, and then it shall be hung up on the wall forever. Let us use our weapon well, that we may not have to resign it, rusty and dishonored, as a memorial of our disgrace. Let us march cheerily to the fight, since it is but once.

Let us play the man, and be like David's mightiest, who feared no risks, but accepted deadly odds, and won and held their own against all comers. Come, beloved, we have an appointed time, and it is running out every hour, let us rejoice to see it go. Our Captain appointed it, he commanded us to stand sentry, or to rush into the front of the battle. Since the time is appointed by our well-beloved King, let us not dishonor his appointment, but in the name of him who gave us our commission to live and fight, let us war a good warfare, living at the highest bent of our force, and the utmost strength of our being. And since, dear friends, it is the Lord's war that we are engaged in, we are enlisted under the great Captain of our salvation, who leads us on to sure and certain victory, let us not be discouraged; let not our hearts fail us; let us be bold, courageous and strong, for the Lord our God is with us, and we have the mighty One of Israel to be our Captain. Let us glorify the grace of God while we are permitted to remain on earth to glorify it. Let us be up and at our enemies while there are enemies for us to fight. Let us carve out victory while we have the raw material of conflict to carve. There are no battles to be fought, and no victories to be won in heaven. So now, in this life let us resolve in the name and strength of God the Holy Spirit, with all our force and vigor to glorify God, who has appointed us our warfare. We now leave this head to turn to the second, and may God the Holy Spirit bless us in so doing.

II. JOB'S VIEW OF OUR WORK while on earth is that we are to wait. "All the days of my appointed time will I wait." The word "wait" is very full of teaching. It contains the whole of the Christian life, if understood in all its various senses. Let us take up a few very briefly.

In the first place, the Christian life should be one of waiting; that is, setting loose by all earthly things. Many travelers are among us this morning; they are passing from one town to another, viewing several countries; but if they are only travelers, and are soon to return to their homes, they do not speculate in the various businesses of Lombard Street or Cheapside. They do not attempt to buy large estates and lay them out, and make gold and silver thereby; they know that they are only strangers, and they act as such.

They take such interest in the affairs of the country in which they are sojourning as may be becoming in those who are not citizens of it; they wish well to those among whom they sojourn and dwell; but that is all, for they are going home, therefore, they do not intend to bind themselves with anything that might make it difficult to part from our shores. They know that they are on the wing, and therefore they live like strangers and sojourners. As a Bedouin wandering across the desert, so is a Christian—a bird of passage; a voyager seeking the haven. This present world is not our rest: it is polluted. Sad thought were this world to be our home!

The wisdom of the Christian is to disentangle himself as much as possible of the things of this life. He will act kindly towards the citizens of the country where he is called to dwell, and he will seek their good: still he will remember that he is not as they are. He is an alien among them! He may have to buy and sell in this world, but that is merely as a matter of transient convenience.

He neither buys nor sells for eternity; for he has "bought the truth," and he "sells it not." He has received God to be his treasure, and his heart and his treasure too he has sent on ahead. On the other side of the river of death are all his joys and all his treasures to be found. Here he looks upon his earthly joys as things that are lent him—borrowed comforts. If his children die, he does not wonder: he knew that they were not immortal. If hisfriends are taken away, he is not astonished: he understood that they were born of women, and therefore would die like the rest. If his wealth takes to itself wings, he does not marvel: he knew that it was a bird of passage, and he is not astonished when, like the swallows, it flies elsewhere.

He had long ago learned that the world is founded on the floods and therefore, when it moves beneath him, he understands that this is the normal state of things, and he is not at all amazed, but rather wonders that the world is not all panic and confusion, since it is so unsubstantial. As Samson shook the Philistine temple, so shall the word of the Lord in the hour of final doom lay all nature prone in one common ruin; and vain is he who boasts of his possessions where all is waiting to be overturned. Brethren, are you doing so?

Some of you professors, I am afraid, are living as though this world was your rest. You do not wish to go home, do you? The nest is very comfortable: you have feathered it warmly. You have all that heart could wish. Here you would fain abide for ages. Ah! well, may this worldliness be cast out of you, and may you be seized with home-sickness, that sweet disease which every true patriot ought to have, an insatiable longing for his dear fatherland. Have you never heard of the Swiss soldiers in the French army, who would fall sick when they heard the music of the song which reminded them of their native mountains, with their chalets and peasants, and the cowboy's song? Ill could they rest in sunny France, when their hearts were among Helvetia's rugged hills. Are there no sweet songs of Zion which remind you of that blessed land where our best friends, our kindred dwell, where God our Savior reigns? If we are true citizens of the New Jerusalem, we shall long for that fair country, the home of the elect.

"Ah! then my spirit faints
To reach the land I love,
The bright inheritance of saints,
Jerusalem above."

It is your duty, Christian, and your privilege, to set loose by the things of earth, and say with Job, "All the days of my appointed time I will wait"-like a mere waiter—"until my change come."

A second meaning of the text, however, is this: we must wait expecting to be gone—expecting daily and hourly to be summoned by our Lord. The proper and healthy estate of a Christian is to be anticipating the hour of his departure as near at hand. I have observed a great readiness to depart in many dying saints, but the same readiness ought to characterize living saints also. Our dear friend, Mr. James Smith, whom some of you remember as preaching the word at Park Street, and afterwards at Cheltenham, when I saw him, some little while before his departure, described himself thus: "You have seen a passenger that has gone to the station, taken his ticket, all his luggage brought in, all packed up, strapped, directed; and you have seen him sitting with his ticket in his hand waiting until the train comes up." That, said he, "is exactly my condition. I am ready to go as soon as my heavenly Father pleases to come for me." And is not that how we should always live-waiting for the Lord's appearing?

Next Part Our Life, Our Work, Our Change 2

Back to Charles Spurgeon