Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 2952
“Lo, God has given you all them that sail with you.” Acts 27:24.
THE Apostle Paul had given some very good advice to the mariners of this ship. They had thought fit to reject it. What then? Now some of us are of such short temper that if our advice should be rejected, we would be in a huff and never offer any more—and we should feel some sort of pleasure in seeing those persons get into mischief who were so foolish as not to take our sage counsel! Not so the Apostle Paul. After he had prudently abstained for some time from saying anything—for there is a time to be silent—he at length gave proof of his unabated affection in them by the good advice which he offered. Let us take a lesson from him and let us forgive our brethren even to 70 times seven and, if, after having done our very best, we still find our advice rejected, let us persevere in our work of love.
One other remark. Note the comfort that was given to the Apostle. He had been long out at sea and, with the rest, had suffered much. The comfort given him was, “Fear not, Paul; you must be brought before Caesar.” No very great comfort, you will say. It seems no more comfort than if the angel had said, “You can’t be drowned, for you are to be devoured by a lion.” Some such comfort Bishop Ridley took to himself when, being rowed up the river to the burning, a little storm coming on and the watermen being much afraid, he said, “Fear not, boatmen, the bishop that is doomed to be burned cannot be drowned.” Yet there was real comfort in the words of the angel, for it was the Apostle’s intense desire to preach Christ before Nero. He wished to proclaim the Gospel at Rome—he had had great trouble of heart for those who had not seen his face in the flesh and, therefore, whether Nero was a lion or not, he was but too glad to face him for Christ’s sake!
And when a man has no self remaining, but has given himself up as a living sacrifice for Christ, that which would be a terror to another man becomes a comfort to him. “I am now ready to be offered,” said the Apostle. And it was given to him even as a comfort that he must be offered up by some cruel death and not escape by the milder method of a passage to Heaven by sea—and he found comfort in the fact that those with him would be preserved. It had been the subject of his prayer, so that he was cheered not only with the prospect of himself prophesying at Rome, but with the hope of seeing all his comrades safe on shore.
I have two or three things to talk of, so let me proceed with them at once.
I. The first practical observation founded upon my text is this—A GODLY MAN MAY OFTEN BE THROWN INTO AN ILL POSITION FOR THE GOOD OF OTHERS.
Paul was put into a ship—into a ship among thieves and other criminals. He was put into a ship among sailors and soldiers, who were none of the best in those days, but he was put there for their good. This, then, I would lay down as a general theory—there are multitudes of Christians who are in places very uncomfortable and, perhaps, very unsuitable for them, but who are put there for the good of others.
If they were not so placed, they would not be like their Lord. Why was Christ on earth at all but for the good of sinners? Why does He sit there at a publican’s table? Why eats He bread with a harlot? Why does He permit an unclean woman to come and wash His feet? As for Himself, ‘tis pain to Him, pain to His holy Nature to come into contact with evil. But our Lord was the Great Physician and where should a physician be but among the sick? Now, as you and I are to be made like our Lord, we must not marvel if sometimes we are thrown, as He was, into company which we would not choose for its own sake, but into which Providence puts us that we may do good.
Moreover, is not this the reason why the saints of God are on earth at all? Why does He not send an express chariot to take them at once to Heaven? There is no necessity for saints being on earth that I know of, except for the good of their fellow men. Sanctification might be completed in a moment. As for all the rest, it is already done. God “has made us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light.” Why do we stay here, then, at all, but that we may be salt in the midst of putrefaction—light in the midst of darkness—life in the midst of death? The Church is the world’s hope! As Christ is the hope of the Church, so the Church is the hope of the world! The saints become, under Christ, the world’s saviors. Then we must not marvel, being here for this very purpose, if Christ does throw us like a handful of salt, just where the putrefaction is the worst! Or if He should cast us, as He has often done with His saints before, where our influence is most needed.
And remember, dear Friends, that there have been special cases in Scripture where the putting of a person into an unpleasant condition has been a great gift to his fellow men. There is Joseph in the dungeon. Why is he there? Why, with his haggard look and shaggy beard, is he sitting down in the round dungeon tower of the chief of the jailers? He is put there that he may relieve his fellow prisoners in their distress. And yet, more fully, that he may provide food for his ungrateful brothers who had sold him for a slave! The salvation of Israel’s offspring depended upon Joseph being put into prison. Look at a more majestic case. There, upon the ruins of a once glorious temple, sits a grand old man, weeping as though he had been a masculine Niobe. Tears flow down both his cheeks, and these are the words he utters, “Oh that my head were waters, and my eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people!” It is old Jeremy. Why is he there? Why is he not in Babylon? Why is he not in some place where he could be comfortably cared for? Because Israel needs him. The women that flock around him like stricken deer need his comfort. And the sinners in Zion that hide their faces from his weeping eyes need him to pour out those burning syllables which make their consciences start, seared though they are!