Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 3126
“What is your life?” James 4:14.
[This Sermon was delivered by Mr. Spurgeon on the evening before he came of age, having been born on June 19, 1834. A much later Sermon on the same verse is #1773, Volume 30—WHAT IS YOUR LIFE? It was suggested by the sudden death of the Duke of Albany in 1884. A still later Sermon by Mr. Spurgeon, upon verses 13-17, #2242, Volume 38— GOD’S WILL ABOUT THE FUTURE, was delivered in connection with the “Home going” of Mr. William Olney, and was published in the very week that the Beloved preacher was “called Home” in January 1892]
IT well behooves me, now that another year of my existence has almost gone, standing on the threshold of a fresh era, to consider what I am, where I am going, what I am doing, whom I am serving and what shall be my reward. I will not, however, do so publicly before you—I hope that I may be enabled to perform that duty in secret. But rather let me turn this occurrence to another account by speaking to you of the frailty of human life, the fleeting nature of time, how swiftly it passes away, how soon we all shall fade as a leaf and how speedily the place which knows us now shall know us no more forever! The Apostle James asks, “What is your life?” and, thanks to Inspiration, we are at no great difficulty to give the reply, for Scripture, being the best interpreter of Scripture, supplies us with many very excellent answers. I shall attempt to give you some of them.
I. First, we shall view life with regard to ITS SWIFTNESS.
It is a great fact that though life to the young man, when viewed in the prospect appears to be long, to the old man it is always short and to all men life is really but a brief period. Human life is not long. Compare it with the existence of some animals and trees and how short is human life! Compare it with the ages of the universe and it becomes a span—and especially measure it by eternity—and how little does life appear! It sinks like one small drop into the ocean and becomes as insignificant as one tiny grain of sand upon the seashore!
Life is swift. If you would picture life, you must turn to the Bible—and this evening we will walk through the Bible-gallery of old paintings.
You will find its swiftness spoken of in the Book of Job where we are furnished with three illustrations. In the ninth Chapter and at the 25th verse, we read, “Now my days are swifter than a post.” We are, most of us, acquainted with the swiftness of post-conveyance. I have sometimes, on an emergency, taken post horses where there has been no railway, and have been amazed and pleased with the swiftness of my journey. But since, in this ancient Book, there can be no allusion to modern posts, we must turn to the manners and customs of the East. And in so doing, we find that the ancient monarchs astonished their subjects by the amazing swiftness with which they received intelligence. By well-ordered arrangements, swift horses and constant relays, they were able to attain a speed which, although trifling in these days, was in those slower ages a marvel of marvels, so that, to an Eastern, one of the clearest ideas of swiftness was that of “a post.” Well does Job say that our life is swifter than a post. We ride one year until it is worn out, but there comes another just as swift and we are borne by it—and soon it is gone and another year serves us for a steed! Post-house after post-house we pass as birthdays successively arrive! We loiter not, but vaulting at a leap from one year to another, still we hurry onward, onward, ever onward! My life is like a post—not like the slow wagon that drags along the road with tiresome wheels, but like a post, it attains the greatest speed!
Job further says, “My days are passed away as the swift ships.” He increases, you see, the intensity of the metaphor, for if, in the Eastern’s idea, anything could exceed the swiftness of the post, it was the swift ship. Some translate this
passage as “the ships of desire,” that is, the ships hurrying home, anxious for the haven and, therefore, crowding on all sail. You may well conceive how swiftly the mariner flies from a threatening storm, or seeks the port where he will find his home. You have sometimes seen how the ship cuts through the billows, leaving a white furrow behind her and causing the sea to boil around her. Such is life, says Job, “as the swift ships,” when the sails are filled by the wind and the vessel dashes on, cleaving a passage through the crowding waves. Swift are the ships, but swifter by far is life! The wind of time bears me along. I cannot stop its motion. I may direct it with the rudder of God’s Holy Spirit. I may, it is true, take in some small sails of sin which might hurry my days on faster than otherwise they would go but, nevertheless, like a swift ship my life must speed on its way until it reaches its haven. Where is that haven to be? Shall it be found in the land of bitterness and barrenness, that dreary region of the lost? Or shall it be that sweet haven of eternal peace where not a troubling wave can ruffle the resting glory of my spirit? Wherever the haven is to be, that Truth of God is the same—we are “as the swift ships.”