Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 1865
“There was a certain nobleman, whose son was sick at Capernaum. When he heard that Jesus was come out of Judea into Galilee, he went unto Him, and besought Him that He would come down, and heal his son: for he was at thepoint of death. Then said Jesus unto him, Except you see signs and wonders, you will not believe. The nobleman said unto Him, Sir, come down before my child dies. Jesus said unto him, Go your way, your son lives. And the man believed the word that Jesus had spoken unto him and he went his way. And as he was now going down, his servants met him, and told him, saying, Your son lives. Then inquired he of them the hour when he began to mend. And they said unto him, yesterday at the seventh hour the fever left him. So the father knew that it was at the same hour in which Jesus said unto him, Your Son lives: and he believed, and his whole house.” John 4:46-53.
THIS narrative illustrates the rise and progress of faith in the soul. While I try to speak of it, I pray that we may experimentally follow the track, desiring that such faith may have a rise in our hearts, may make progress in our spirits and may become even stronger in us than it was in this nobleman. The point, my Brothers and Sisters, is not to hear about these things, only, but to have them repeated in your own soul. We need to come to real business and to make the things of God matters of downright fact to ourselves. We need not only to hear about this nobleman from Capernaum, or anybody else—but to see in our own souls the same work of Grace as was worked in him. The same living Christ is here and His help we as greatly need as ever did this nobleman. May we seek it as he sought it and find it as he found it! Thus will the Holy Spirit, who inspired the narrative before us, be found writing it over again, not upon the pages of a book, but upon the fleshy tablets of our hearts!
Observe then, at the commencement, that trouble, first of all, led this courtly person to Jesus. Had he been without trial, he might have lived forgetful of his God and Savior. But sorrow came to his house and it was God’s angel in disguise. It may be, dear Friend, that you are in trouble this morning and, if so, I pray that affliction may be the black horse upon which Mercy shall ride to your door! It is a sad, sad thing with some men that the better the Lord deals with them in Providence, the worse return they make. On the other hand, there are hearts that turn to the Lord when He smites them. When they drift into deep waters, when they can scarcely find bread to eat, when sickness attacks their bodies and especially when their children are smitten, then they begin to think of God and better things. Blessed is the discipline of the great Father in such a case! It is well for the troubled if their tribulation bruises their heart to repentance and repentance leads them to seek and find pardon.
The particular form of trial which visited this nobleman was the sickness of his child. He had a little son whom he dearly loved and who was down with a deadly fever. The father appears to have been a naturally kind and affectionate person. His servants evidently took a great interest in him and in the domestic affliction which grieved him, for you observe with what eagerness they came to meet him, to tell him of the recovery of his child. The father’s heart was sadly wounded because his dear boy was at the point of death. No doubt he had tried all the remedies known to the times, had sent for every physician that could be found within miles of Capernaum and now, having heard of one, Jesus of Nazareth, who at Cana had turned water into wine and at Jerusalem had done many mighty works, he resorts to Him with eager petition and desperate hope.
He might never have thought of seeking Jesus if it had not been for that dear dying boy. How often does it happen that children, though they are not angels, yet are used to do better work than angels could accomplish, for they sweetly
lead their parents to God and Heaven! They twine themselves about our hearts and then, if we see them sicken and mark their pains, our sympathetic hearts are wrung with anguish and we cry, “O God, spare my child! Lord, have mercy upon my little one!” The first prayers that come from many hearts are, under God, fetched forth by grief for little ones most dearly loved. Is it not written, “And a little child shall lead them”? It was so with this man—he was brought to Jesus by trouble—brought to Jesus by anxiety about a child. I have it strongly upon me, at this moment, that I am speaking to certain persons who are not converted, but they have come here because they are in great sorrow—possibly a dear little one is pining away—and their hearts are crying to God that, if possible, the precious life may be spared. In the House of Prayer they feel somewhat comforted, but their hearts are ready to break because of the loss they so much dread. How much I pray our Lord to make this trouble a means of Grace!