Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 1149
“He restores my soul.” Psalm 23:3.
THIS sweetest of the Psalms sings of many mercies which the happy soul of the Believer receives—and it traces all those benefits to one Source—namely to the Good Shepherd, Himself. “I shall not want.” Why? Because the Lord is my Shepherd. I lie down in delicious repose in green pastures. Why? Because “He makes me.” I march onward making holy progress beside the still waters. Why? Because “He leads me.” In the prospect of death I am calm and free from fear. Why? Because He is with me, His rod and staff they comfort me. The crown is composed of many costly things—gold, pearls and rare gems from the land beyond the river—they are all blended in one diadem—and that diadem is, without a question, joyfully placed upon the head of the Great Shepherd of Israel. The poet laureate of Scripture sings surpassingly in this Psalm, and every line is dedicated to the Beloved of his soul, in whom were all his fresh springs.
My object, while handling a part of one of his verses shall be the same as his own—I also would speak of “things which I have made touching the King,” with the view of extolling His name. I desire to glorify Him from one particular point of view, namely, as The Restorer who, Himself, brings back our wandering spirits when we forsake His ways. I would just now write the first word of the text in capitals, capitals as large as you can find. “HE restores my soul.” He, He alone, He and not another. Unto Him be praise!
I. The text is full of lessons and reminders, and reminds us, in the first place of OUR TRUE POSITION as Believers. Let us dwell upon it in that light. What is the true position of every Believer? It is that of a sheep abiding close to its Shepherd. The text suggests that the sheep has gone astray and the Shepherd brings it back in order to put it into the position which it ought never to have left. The fittest condition of a Believer is in communion with Christ. It ought not to be a privilege occasionally enjoyed—it should be the everyday life of the soul. We are to abide in Jesus, walk with Him and live in Him.
Paul did not say, “For me to specially rejoice is Christ,” or, “For me to feast on holydays is Christ.” No, he said, “For me to live is Christ.” Christ is the ordinary bread of the common meal as well as the fat things full of marrow for the banquet. He is water from the rock as well as wine on the lees well-refined. To us, His name is the watchword of earth as we expect it to be our passport into Heaven. We need fellowship with Jesus, not as a luxury for red-letter days and Sabbaths, but as the necessary provision of every day of our lives. “Abide in Me” is His Word to us for all seasons, and we ought to strive to realize it, so that always, by night and by day, on the Sunday and equally on the weekdays—in our joys and in our cares—we should abide in Him.
Christ is not merely a harbor of refuge, but a port for all weathers. Do not think, Beloved, that I am setting up too high a standard when I say this. I am so sure I am not that I will repeat what I have said—the proper condition of a child of God at all times is that he should sit with Mary at the Master’s feet, or, with John, should lean his head upon the beloved Redeemer’s bosom. I think this will be clear, first, if we remember our obligations to Jesus. When we were newly converted and first knew our sins to be blotted out, if we had been asked how we should, in the future, act towards our Lord, we should have set up a very high standard.
“Did He die for me, bearing all my sins in His own body? Then I will forever view His death as the grandest miracle of love! And my grateful heart shall have communion with Him by love and praise. Has Jesus really forgiven me? Am I clean through being washed in His most precious blood, clean every whit, and made a child of God, and accepted in the Beloved? Oh, then, I will praise Him and bless Him, and magnify Him, and live to Him all my days! As to ever being weary of Him—impossible! As to ever growing cold and indifferent towards Him—better my heart should cease to beat than that it should ever be.”
Do I not accurately describe what you thought at the first? Have I not truthfully described the ardor of your espousal love? You have not realized your ideal, but that is what you rightly judged to be, and, Beloved, it is what you ought to have been. It is not a higher condition than your solemn obligations to Christ really demand. If an angel had never heard of men before, and should suddenly alight upon this earth and meet with one of our race—and hold talks with him—he would be filled with wonder at what he discovered. Suppose that we should tell him that we fell into sin and were condemned to die, but that the great Maker of Heaven and earth condescended to take upon Himself our Nature, and died in our place? Can you imagine the angel’s astonishment at the condescension of the Son of God?