Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 1922
“For I know that You will bring me to death, and to the house appointed for all living.’” Job 30:23.
JOB suffered from a terrible sickness which filled him with pain both day and night. It is supposed that, in addition to his grievous eruptions upon the skin, he endured great difficulty in breathing. He says in the 18th verse, “By the great force of my disease is my garment changed: it binds me about as the collar of my coat.” His clothes were soiled and clung to him. His skin was blackened and seemed to be tightened. He was like a man whose tunic strangles him—the collar of his garment seemed to be fast bound about his throat. Those who have suffered from it, know what distress is occasioned by this complaint, especially when they are also compelled to cry, “My bones are pierced in me in the night season: and my sinews take no rest.” At such a time Job thought of death and, surely, if at any period in our lives we should consider our latter end, it is when the frail tent of our body begins to tremble because the cords are loosened and the curtain is torn!
It is the general custom with sick people to talk about “getting well” and those who visit them, even when they are gracious people, will see the tokens of death upon them and yet will speak as if they were hopeful of their recovery. I remember a father asking me when I prayed with a consumptive girl to be sure not to mention death. In such cases it would be far more sensible for the sick man to turn his thoughts towards eternity and stand prepared for the great change. When our God, by our affliction, calls upon us to number our days, let us not refuse to do so! I admire the wisdom of Job, that he does not shirk the subject of death, but dwells upon it as an appropriate topic, saying, “I know that You will bring me to death, and to the house appointed for all living.”
Yet Job made a mistake in the hasty conclusion which he drew from his grievous affliction. Under depression of spirit he felt sure that he must very soon die. He feared that God would not relax the blows of His hands until his body became a ruin—and then he would have rest. But he did not die at that time. He was fully recovered and God gave him twice as much as he had before! A life of usefulness, happiness and honor lay before him and yet he had set up his own tombstone and reckoned himself a dead man. It is a pity for us to pretend to predict the future, for we certainly cannot see an inch before us. As it is idle with daydreams to fascinate the heart into a groundless expectation, so is it equally foolish to increase the evil of the day by forebodings of tomorrow. Who knows what is to be? Therefore why should I wish to lift up the corner of the curtain and peer into what God has hidden? Some of those who have been most sure that they would soon die, have lived longer than others. A Prophet once prayed to die and yet he never saw death. From the lips of Elijah, who was to be caught up by a whirlwind into Heaven, it was a strange prayer—“Take away my life; for I am not better than my fathers.”
It is the part of a brave man and especially of a believing man, neither to dread death nor to sigh for it—neither to fear it nor to court it. Possessing his soul in patience, he should not despair of life when harshly pressed and he should be always more eager to run his race well than to reach its end. It is no work of men of faith to predict their own deaths. These things are with God. How long we shall live on earth, we know not and need not wish to know. We have not the choosing of short or long life and if we had such choice, it would be wise to refer it back to our God. “Father, into Your hands I commend my spirit,” is an admirable prayer for living as well as for dying saints. To wish to pry between the folded leaves of the Book of Destiny is to desire a questionable privilege—doubtless we live better because we cannot foresee the moment when this life shall reach its finis.
Job made a mistake as to the date of his death, but he made no mistake as to the fact itself. He spoke truly when he said, “I know that You will bring me to death.” Some day or other, the Lord will call us from our home above ground to the house appointed for all living. I invite you, this morning, to consider this unquestioned Truth of God. Do you start back? Why do you do so? Is it not greatly wise to talk about our last hours? “We want a cheerful theme.” Do you? Is not this a cheerful theme to you? It is solemn, but it ought also to be welcome to you! You say that you cannot stand the thought of death. Then you greatly need it! Your shrinking from it proves that you are not in a right state of mind, or else you would take it into due consideration without reluctance. That is a poor happiness which overlooks the most important of facts. I would not endure a peace which could only be maintained by thoughtlessness. You have something yet to learn if you are a Christian and yet are not prepared to die! You need to reach a higher state of Grace and attain to a firmer and more forceful faith. That you are as yet a babe in Grace is clear from your admission that to depart and be with Christ does not seem to be a better thing for you than to abide in the flesh!