Secret Sins 2
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III. But now, next, the guilt—the solemn GUILT of secret sin.
Now, John, you do not think there is any evil in a thing unless somebody sees it, do you? You feel that it is a very great sin if your master finds you out in robbing the till—but there is no sin if he should not discover it—none at all. And you, Sir, you fancy it to be very great sin to play a trick in trade, in case you should be discovered and brought before the court. But to play a trick and never be discovered, that is all fair—do not say a word about it Mr. Spurgeon, it is all business. You must not touch business—tricks that are not discovered, of course you are not to find fault with them. The common measure of sin is the notoriety of it.
But I do not believe that. A sin is a sin, whether done in private or before the whole world. It is singular how men will measure guilt. A railway servant puts up a wrong signal—there is an accident. The man is tried and severely reprimanded. The day before he put up the wrong signal but there was no accident and therefore no one cursed him for his neglect. But it was just the same, accident or no accident—the accident did not make the guilt—it was the deed which made the guilt, not the notoriety nor yet the consequence of it. It was his business to have taken care and he was as guilty the first time as he was the second, for he negligently exposed the lives of men. Do not measure sin by what other people say of it. But measure sin by what God says of it and what your own conscience says of it.
Now I hold that secret sin, if anything, is the worst sin. Because secret sin implies that the man who commits it has Atheism in his heart. You will ask how that can be? I reply, he may be a professing Christian but I shall tell him to his face that he is a practical Atheist if he labors to keep up a respectable profession before man and then secretly transgresses. Why, is he not an Atheist who will say there is a God, yet at the same time thinks more of man than he does of God? Is it not the very essence of Atheism—is it not a denial of the Divinity of the Most High when men lightly esteem Him and think more of the eye of a creature than of the observation of their Creator?
There are some who would not for the life of them say a wicked word in the presence of their minister but they can do it knowing God is looking at them. They are Atheists. There are some who would not trick in trade for all the world if they thought they would be discovered. But they can do it while God is with them, that is, they think more of the eye of man than of the eye of God. And they think it worse to be condemned by man than to be condemned by God. Call it by what name you will—the proper name of that is practical Atheism. It is dishonoring God. It is dethroning Him— putting Him down below His own creatures. And what is that but to take away His Divinity?
Brethren, do not, I beseech you, incur the fearful guilt of secret sins. No man can sin a little in secret—it will certainly engender more sin. No man can be a hypocrite and yet be moderate in guilt—he will go from bad to worse and still proceed—until when his guilt shall be published—he shall be found to be the very worst and the most hardened of men. Take heed of the guilt of secret sin. Ah, now if I could preach as Rowland Hill did, I would make some people look to themselves and tremble!
It is said that when he preached, there was not a man in the window, or standing in the crowd, or perched up anywhere but said, "There, he is preaching at me. He is telling me about my secret sins." And when he proclaimed God’s omniscience, it is said men would almost think they saw God bodily present in the midst of them looking at them. And when he had finished his sermon, they would hear a voice in their ears, "Can any hide himself in secret places that I cannot see him? says the Lord. Do not I fill Heaven and earth? says the Lord."
I wish I could do that. That I could make every man look to himself and find out his secret sin. Come my Hearer, what is it? Bring it forth to the daylight. Perhaps it will die in the light of the sun. These things love to not be discovered. Tell your own conscience, now, what it is. Look it in the face. Confess it before God and may He give you grace to remove that sin and every other and turn to Him with full purpose of heart. But know this—your guilt is guilt discovered or undiscovered and if there is any difference it is worse, because it has been secret. God save us from the guilt of secret sin! "Cleanse me from secret faults."
IV. And note, next, the DANGER of secret sin.
One danger is that a man cannot commit a little sin in secret without being by-and-by betrayed into a public sin. You cannot, Sir, though you may think you can, preserve a moderation in sin. If you commit one sin, it is like the melting of the lower glacier upon the Alps. The others must follow in time. As certainly as you heap one stone upon the mound today, the next day you will cast another, until the heap, reared stone by stone, shall become a very pyramid. See the coral insect at work—you cannot decree where it shall stay its work.
It will not build its rock just as high as you please. It will not stay until it shall be covered with weeds and until the weeds shall decay. And then there shall be soil upon it and an island shall be created by tiny creatures. Sin cannot be held in with bit and bridle. "But I am going to have a little drink now and then, I am only going to be intoxicated once a week or so. Nobody will see it. I shall be in bed directly." You will be drunk in the streets soon. "I am only just going to read one lascivious book, I will put it under the sofa when anyone comes in." You will keep it in your library yet, Sir.
"I am only going into that company now and then." You will go there every day, such is the bewitching character of it. You cannot help it. You may as well ask the lion to let you put your head into his mouth. You cannot regulate his jaws—neither can you regulate sin. Once go into it, you cannot tell when you will be destroyed. You may be such a fortunate individual that like Van Amburgh you may put your head in and out a great many times. But rest assured that one of these days it will be a costly venture.
Again—you may labor to conceal your vicious habit but it will come out—you cannot help it. You keep your little pet sin at home. But mark this, when the door is ajar the dog will be out in the street. Wrap him up in your bosom, put over him fold after fold of hypocrisy to keep him secret—the wretch will be singing some day when you are in company. You cannot keep the evil bird still. Your sin will gad abroad. And what is more, you will not mind it some of these days. A man who indulges in sin privately, by degrees gets his forehead as hard as brass. The first time he sinned, the drops of sweat stood on his brow at the recollection of what he had done.
The second time, no hot sweat was on his brow—only an agitation of the muscle. The third time there was the sly, sneaky look but no agitation. The next time, he sinned a little further. And by degrees he became the bold blasphemer of his God and exclaims, "Who am I that I should fear Jehovah and who is He that I should serve Him?" Men go from bad to worse. Launch your boat in the current—it must go where the current takes it. Put yourself in the whirlwind—you are but a straw in the wind—you must go which way the wind carries you—you cannot control yourself.
The balloon can mount, but it cannot direct its course. It must go whichever way the wind blows. If you once mount into sin there is no stopping. Take heed if you would not become the worst of characters. Take heed of the little sins. They, mounting one upon another, may at last heave you from the summit and destroy your soul forever. There is a great danger in secret sins.
But I have here some true Christians who indulge in secret sins. They say it is but a little one and therefore do they spare it. Dear Brethren, I speak to you and I speak to myself, when I say this—let us destroy all our little secret sins. They are called little and if they are, let us remember that it is the foxes, even the little foxes, that spoil our vines. For our vines have tender shoots. Let us take heed of our little sins. A little sin, like a little pebble in the shoe, will make a traveler to Heaven walk very wearily.
Little sins, like little thieves, may open the door to greater ones outside. Christians, recollect that little sins will spoil your communion with Christ. Little sins, like little stains in silk, may damage the fine texture of Fellowship. Little sins, like little irregularities in the machinery, may spoil the whole fabric of your religion. The one dead fly spoils the whole pot of ointment. That one thistle may seed a continent with noxious weeds. Let us, Brethren, kill our sins as often as we can find them. One said—"The heart is full of unclean birds. It is a cage of them." "Ah but," said another Divine, "you must not make that an apology, for a Christian’s business is to wring their necks."
And so it is. If there are evil things, it is our business to kill them. Christians must not tolerate secret sins. We must not harbor traitors. It is high treason against the King of Heaven. Let us drag them out to light and offer them upon the altar, giving up the dearest of our secret sins at the will and bidding of God. There is a great danger in a little secret sin. Therefore avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it and shun it and God give you grace to overcome it!
V. And now I come, in finishing up, to plead with all my might with some of you whom God has pricked in your consciences. I have come to entreat you, if it is possible, even to tears, that you will give up your secret sins. I have one here for whom I bless God. I love him, though I know him not. He is almost persuaded to be a Christian. He halts between two opinions. He intends to serve God, he strives to give up sin but he finds it a hard struggle and as yet he knows not what shall become of him. I speak to him with all love—my Friend, will you have your sin and go to Hell, or leave your sin and go to Heaven?
This is the solemn alternative—to an awakened sinner I put it—may God choose for you, otherwise I tremble as to which you may choose. The pleasures of this life are so intoxicating, the joys of it so ensnaring that did I not believe that God works in us to will and to do, I should despair of you. But I have confidence that God will decide the matter. Let me lay the alternative before you—on the one hand there is an hour’s merriment—a short life of bliss and that a poor, poor bliss. On the other hand there is everlasting life and eternal glory. On the one hand, there is a transient happiness and afterwards overwhelming woe. In this case there is a solid peace and everlasting joy and after it overflowing bliss.
I shall not fear to be called an Arminian, when I say, as Elijah did, "Choose this day whom you will serve. If God is God, serve Him. If Baal be God serve him." But, now, make your choice deliberately. And may God help you to do it! Do not say you will take up with religion, without first counting the cost of it. Remember, there is your lust to be given up and your pleasure to be renounced—can you do it for Christ’s sake? Can you? I know you cannot, unless God’s grace shall assist you in making such a choice. But can you say, "Yes, by the help of God, earth’s gaudy toys, its pomps, pageantries, gewgaws, all these I renounce"?—
"These can never satisfy,
Give me Christ or else I die."
Sinner, you will never regret that choice, if God help you to make it. You will find yourself a happy man here and thrice happy throughout eternity. "But," says one, "Sir, I intend to be religious but I do not hold with your strictness." I do not ask you to do so. I hope, however, you will hold with God’s strictness and God’s strictness is ten thousand times greater than mine. You may say that I am Puritanical in my preaching—God will be Puritanical in judging in that great day. I may appear severe but I can never be so severe as God will be. I may draw the harrow with sharp teeth across your conscience but God shall drag harrows of eternal fire across you one day.
I may speak thundering things! God will not speak them but hurl them from His hands. Remember, men may laugh at Hell and say there is none. But they must reject their Bibles before they can believe the lie. Men’s consciences tell them that—
"There is a dreadful Hell,
And everlasting pains.
Where sinners must with devils dwell,
In darkness, fire and chains."
Sirs, will you keep your secret sins and have eternal fire for them? Remember it is of no use, they must all be given up, or else you cannot be God’s child. You cannot by any means have both. It cannot be God and the World. It cannot be Christ and the devil. It must be one or the other. Oh, that God would give you grace to resign all! For what are they worth? They are your deceivers now and will be your tormentors forever. Oh, that your eyes were open to see the rottenness, the emptiness and trickery of iniquity! Oh, that God would turn you to Himself! Oh, may God give you grace to cross the Rubicon of repentance at this very hour! May He give you grace to say, "Henceforth it is war to the knife with my sins. Not one of them will I willingly keep but down with them, down with them—Canaanite, Hittite, Jebusite, they shall all be driven out."—
"The dearest idol I have known.
Whatever that idol be.
Help me to tear it from its Throne,
And worship only Thee."
"But oh, Sir, I cannot do it, it would be like pulling my eyes out." Yes but hear what Christ says—"It were better for you to enter into life with one eye, than having two eyes to be cast into Hell fire." "But it would be like cutting my arm off." Yes and it would be better for you to enter into life crippled or maimed, than to be cast into Hell fire forever. Oh, when the sinner comes before God at last, do you think he will speak as he does now? God will reveal his secret sins—the sinner will not then say, "Lord, I thought my secret sins so sweet, I could not give them up."
I think I see how changed it will be then. "Sir," you say now, "you are too strict." Will you say that when the eyes of the Almighty are glowering on you? You say now, "Sir you are too precise." Will you say that to God Almighty’s face? "Sir, I mean to keep such-and-such a sin." Can you say it at God’s bar at last? You will not dare to do it then. Ah, when Christ comes a second time there will be a marvelous change in the way men talk. Methinks I see Him. There He sits upon His Throne. Now, Caiaphas, come and condemn Him now! Judas! Come and kiss Him now! What do you stick at, man? Are you afraid of Him?
Now, Barabbas! Go, See whether they will prefer you to Christ now. Swearer, now is your time. You have been a bold man—curse Him to His face now. Now drunkard—stagger up to Him now. Now infidel—tell Him there is no Christ now—now that the world is lit with lightning and the earth is shaking with thunder till the solid pillars thereof do bow themselves—tell God there is no God now! Now laugh at the Bible. Now scoff at the minister. Why Men, what is the matter with you? Why, can’t you do it?
Ah, there you are, you have fled to the hills and to the rocks—"Rocks hide us! Mountains fall on us! Hide us from the face of Him that sits on the Throne." Ah, where are your boasts now? Alas! alas! For you, in that dread day of wonders— secret sinner—what will become of you? Go out of this place unmasked. Go out to examine yourself, go out to bend your knee, go out to weep, go out to pray. God give you grace to believe! And oh, how sweet and pleasant the thought—that this day sinners have fled to Christ and men have been born again to Jesus!
Brethren, before I finish, I repeat the words at which so many have quibbled—it is now or never, it is turn or burn. Solemnly in God’s sight I say it. If it is not God’s Truth I must answer for it in the great day of account. Your consciences tell you it is true. Take it home and mock me if you will. This morning I am clear of your blood—if any seek not God but live in sin, I shall be clear of your blood in that day when the Watchman shall have your souls demanded of Him. Oh, may God grant that you may be cleared in a blessed manner! When I went down these pulpit stairs a Sabbath or two ago, a friend said to me words which have been in my mind ever since—"Sir, there are nine thousand people this day without excuse in the Day of Judgment."
It is true of you this morning. If you are damned, it will be not for want of preaching to you and it shall not be for want of praying for you. God knows that if my heart could break of itself, it would, for your souls. God is my witness how earnestly I long for you in the heart of Christ Jesus. Oh, that He might touch your hearts and bring you to Him! For death is a solemn thing. Damnation is a horrible thing. To be out of Christ is a dreadful thing. To be dead in sin is a terrible thing. May God lead you to view these things as they are and save you, for His mercy’s sake! "He that believes and is baptized shall be saved."
"Lord, search my soul, try every thought;
Though my own heart accuse me not
Of walking in a false disguise,
I beg the trial of your eyes,
Does secret mischief lurk within?
Do I indulge some unknown sin?
O turn my feet whenever I stray,
And lead me in Your perfect way."
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