Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 3136
“They kindled a fire, and received us, every one, because of the present rain, and because of the cold.” Acts 28:2.
As much as lies in us, we should seek to do good unto all men, and we can never know to whom we may be rendering service. These people of Malta never dreamed that they were entertaining an Apostle and it never entered into their heads that their simple act of hospitality would be recorded in the Sacred Scriptures—and that millions of eyes would read of—and millions of minds would think upon this kind act of theirs on behalf of this shipwrecked company! They really entertained an angel unawares, and they had many blessings in consequence, for we find that Paul afterwards healed the father of the chief of the island and others of the inhabitants who were suffering from various diseases. We can never tell how God may make return to us for acts of kindness which we may do to others, but just as it is said that curses, like chickens, come home to roost, and that he who throws a stone into the air will find it fall on his own head, so do good actions—deeds of kindness and charity—come back to us in some shape or other, even as Christ said to His disciples, “Give, and it shall be given unto you: good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom. For with the same measure that you mete withal it shall be measured to you again.” It is the best way to bless ourselves to be earnest in blessing others! These hospitable people were bringing down upon the island of Malta untold benedictions while they were, in their simple kindness, entertaining shipwrecked mariners! At this season of the year, in the midst of such a city as this, abounding as it does with the poor and needy, there are abundant opportunities of using “the mammon of unrighteousness” well by relieving their needs—and what you possess would be made all the sweeter to yourselves through your ministering to others in their necessities. I am not, however, going to speak upon that matter just now—I intend to use the text in this manner. First, I am afraid we are very apt to grow spiritually cold and, therefore, next, the text suggests that we should be diligent in using means for getting spiritual warmth. And thirdly, as there are a good many in this world who are cold, as Paul and his companions were when they came shivering from the deep, it should be our constant duty to seek to kindle a fire and to receive them, every one, because of the cold.
I. First, then, I am afraid that WE OURSELVES ARE VERY APT TO BE COLD SPIRITUALLY.
First, because we are ourselves cold subjects—hot enough, perhaps, in temper, earnest enough in pursuit of business, fast enough where pleasure may draw us, but ah—how chilly, how wintry when we have to do with the things of God! I know that at one time we burned and flamed with sacred ardor, but we look back upon that period with the deepest regret that it should have gone by so long ago. Even now, when we are moved by an earnest discourse, or are gathered with faithful Brothers and Sisters, we begin to glow again, but how easy it is for us to get back to the icy state and to have our soul frozen so that it does not flow as freely as it should! Do you not find, Brothers and Sisters, that you never need make any effort to be dull in religious matters, but that the effort has to be made the other way—that you have to make an effort and need God’s Grace to give you strength to make it towards holiness, towards fervency, towards enthusiasm? By nature, we are as hard, cold and dead as stones—and seem as if we never could be warm! And we never are unless God turns the heart of stone into a heart of flesh. And even then it often seems to grow hard and chill again, so that we need fresh Grace to warm our heart and to keep it beating at anything like the pace of life. I know not how it may be with you, dear Friends. Perhaps you have been so lifted up by Divine Grace that you have never wearied in the heavenly race. If so, you are very happy and privileged individuals! But there are some of us who, although we have not
been allowed to actually stand still, have found our onward progress to be a hard climb up the Hill Difficulty because we are so lumpish and heavy. Often have we had to cry with Dr. Watts—
“Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove,
With all Your quickening powers,
Kindle a flame of sacred love
In these cold hearts of ours!
Dear Lord! And shall we always be
Our love so faint, so cold to You,
And Yours to us so great?”
We are indeed cold subjects. Just compare your state of heart, for a while, with the ardor of Apostles, confessors and martyrs who lived and died for Jesus. Compare, or rather, contrast yourselves with some other children of God whom you have known, whose fervent prayers put you to shame and whose many acts of self-denial, and whose whole persevering service now rise before you to make you blush. Above all, contrast yourselves with your dear Lord and Savior. He was a veritable flame of fire, but what are you? Alas! Alas, what am I? Cold, cold, cold! Even His great love scarcely warms us to anything like true Christian affection! We can think of Hell with its unutterable horrors and yet be scarcely moved! We can think of Heaven with its indescribable glories and yet be scarcely affected. We can turn to You, O You blessed Christ of Calvary, and look upon Your ghastly wounds, yet is our soul scarcely made to melt! It is sad that it should be so, but mournfully true is it that we are cold by nature.