Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 3116
“And it came to pass, as they still went on, and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into Heaven.” 2 Kings 2:11.
IT seems to me that the departure of Elijah from the world, though of course he did not “die” at all, may furnish us with a very good type of the decease of those saints who, although taken away all of a sudden, are not without some previous intimation that in such a manner they will be removed. There may be some such here. They may know that they have about them a disease which, in all probability, will terminate fatally and suddenly. Others of us may have no idea at present that there is prepared for us a sudden death and sudden Glory. We would not shrink from such a death if it were the Lord’s will that it should be ours. No, some of us would gladly reach out our hands and grasp so happy a mode of departure! It has always seemed to us to be the preferable way of leaving this world, not to be long sick and disabled, a weariness to those who nurse us and a torment to ourselves, but all of a sudden to shut our eyes on earth and open them on the splendors of Heaven! So to die would be, we think, a blessed mode of resting from our labors and entering into the Presence of our Lord.
I. Taking Elijah’s case as a guide, we propose tonight to say a few words—and may God make them to edification—about PREPARING FOR OUR DEPARTURE, which is really so near that it is time we began to talk about it.
It is much nearer to us than we think. To those of you who have passed fifty, sixty, or 70 years of age, it must, of necessity, be very near. To others of us who are in the prime of life, it is not far off, for I suppose we are all conscious that time flies more swiftly with us, now, than it ever did. The years of our youth seem to have been twice as long as the years are, now, that we are men. It was but yesterday that the buds began to swell and burst—and now the leaves are beginning to fall and soon we shall be expecting to see old winter taking up his accustomed place. The years whirl along so fast that we cannot see the months which, as it were, make the spokes of the wheel! The whole thing travels so swiftly that the axle thereof grows hot with speed. We are flying, as on some mighty eagle’s wing, swiftly on towards eternity. Let us, then, talk about preparing to die. It is the greatest thing we have to do—and we have to do it soon—so let us talk and think something about it.
And what should we do when we are preparing to die? Well, we may spend some little time in leave-taking. We have some friends who have been very dear to us and we may almost begin to bid them “good-bye.” When we feel that death is really coming, we may spare a little season to say to a friend, “I beseech you now to leave me.” There will be some who, like Elisha with Elijah, have been with us during life and who will not leave us till the very last moment of death. Yet, in the prospect of our departure, we must learn to hold all things with a loose hand. Why should I grip so tightly that which death must and will tear from me? Why should I set my affections so ardently upon a dying thing that will melt before my eyes? I cannot carry it with me when I am called to go. There are, it is true, dear ones who will not leave us, but who will live in our hearts and permit us to live in their hearts till the last hour shall come and longer still. But we must begin even now to prepare for our departure by reminding them and reminding ourselves, likewise, that these friendships must be broken, that these unions must be snapped, at least for a season, hopeful though we may be that we shall enjoy them again on the other side the Jordan.
The next thing we ought to do, and as it seems to me even more important, is to go and see about our work. If we have a feeling at all that we are going Home, let us set our house in order. What did Elijah do? He went to the two colleges he had founded at Bethel and at Jericho, and of which he was their principal instructor, and he addressed the young men once more before he was taken from them. I should like to have been a student there to have listened to the Professor’s last lecture. I guarantee you that it was not an ordinary one! There was nothing in it dry, dusty, dead and dreary. O Friends, I think I hear the Prophet charging them as before God and before His holy angels, to rebuke the sin of the age in which they lived. “I went to the top of Carmel,” he said, “and the priests of Baal were gathered about me and I laughed them to scorn! I poured sarcasms upon their heads! I said to them concerning Baal, ‘Cry aloud, for he is a god—and while they cut themselves with knives and with lancets I mockingly said to them, ‘Perhaps he hunts, or he sleeps and needs to be awaked by louder cries!’ I laughed to scorn their leaping upon the altar and then, when I bowed my knees and cried for fire to come from Heaven, those same skies which my faith had shut up so that no rain fell upon the sinful Israelites’ land, now cast forth fire at my word! And then I took the Prophets of Baal—I let not one of them escape—I slew them by the Brook Kishon and made the brook run blood-red with their gore because they had led astray the people of God, and had defied the name of the Most High! Now, young, men,” he said, “be you faithful even unto death! Go and teach the people, whether they will hear or whether they will forbear! Pull down their idols, exalt Jehovah and speak you as men who are sent by Him.”