Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 3283
“I said, Days should speak and multitude of years should teach wisdom.” Job 32:7.
In the discussion between Job and his three friends, Elihu was present, but though by far the wisest man, he remained quiet. Sometimes a still tongue proves a wise head. In our text he gives his reason for refraining from speech. He felt inclined to deliver his mind, but being the younger man he modestly said, “These gray-headed men ought to know better than I. Perhaps if I speak, I shall display my ignorance and they will say, “Be silent, boy, and let your fathers teach you.” Therefore he said to himself, “Days should speak and multitude of years should teach wisdom.”
Elihu had, however, been disappointed. His words plainly say that he had heard but little wisdom from the three ancients. And he added, “Great men are not always wise; neither do the aged understand judgment.” He was not the only man who had been disappointed when looking to his seniors for wisdom, for it is a sorrowful truth that the lapse of years, apart from the Grace of God, will not make us wise. Though with the teaching of the Holy Spirit, every year’s experience will make the Christian riper, yet without that teaching it is possible that each year may make a Christian not more ripe, but more rotten. Among all sinners the worst are those who have been longest at the trade and among saints he is not always the best who has lived long enough to grow cold. We have known some exhibit ripeness of experience in their very youth through Divine teaching and by growing on the sunny side of the wall of fellowship—while others who have been far longer on the tree are still sour because they hang out of the blessed sunlight of the Divine Presence in the cool shade of worldliness. You cannot measure a man’s wisdom by the baldness of his head, or the grayness of his hair— and yet, if the Spirit of God were with us to sanctify each day’s experience, it ought to be so—“Days should speak and multitude of years should teach wisdom.”
This, then, is our New Year’s theme—the teaching of our years as they pass over our heads. What are we learning from them?
I. Our first remark shall be that DAYS HAVE A VOICE. Elihu said, “Days should speak.” Every day, as a day, has its own lesson. “Day unto day utters speech, and night unto night shows knowledge.” The sun never breaks upon the earth without light of a superior order for those who have intelligence—especially for those who have the Holy Spirit. For instance, the mere fact of our beginning another day teaches us to adore the mercy which kept us alive when the image of death was on our faces during the night—an extraordinary mercy, indeed—for sleep is near akin to death, and waking is a rehearsal of the resurrection! When the day begins, it tells us that God has already provided us with mercies, for there are our garments ready to put on and there, too, is the morning meal. Each day in its freshness seems to hint that the Lord would have us attempt something new for Him, or push forward with that which we have already commenced, or draw nearer to Him than we have ever been before. The Lord calls us to learn more of Him, to become more like He, to drink more fully into His love and to show forth that love more clearly. Every hour of the day teaches us its own lesson and till the shadows fall, the voices speak to us if we have ears to hear. Night, too, has its teaching. Does it not bid us pray the Lord to draw a curtain over the day and hide the sin of it, even as He draws the curtain across the sky and makes it more easy for us to fall asleep? Do we not delight, as we go to our beds, to ask to be unclothed of all our sins, even as we are stripped of our garments? And should we not pray to be prepared to fall asleep and lie in our last bedchamber, till the everlasting morning breaks upon us and we put on our Glory robes? Did we but exercise sanctified thought, each day would bring its precious power of wisdom and make us better acquainted with the Lord.
What a message do our Sabbaths bring to us! To those who toil all the week long, the light of the Lord’s-Day seems fairer and fresher than that of any other day. A person at Newcastle who had a house to let, took an applicant for it to the top of his house. He spoke of the distant prospect and added, “We can see Durham Cathedral on a Sunday.” “On Sunday,” said the listener, “and pray why not on a Monday?” “Why,” he said, “because on the weekdays great furnaces and pits are pouring forth their smoke and we cannot see as far—indeed, we can scarcely see at all! But when the fires are out, our view is wide.” Is not this a true symbol of our Sabbaths when we are in the Spirit? The smoke of the world no more clouds the heavens and we see almost up to the golden gates! Such days do speak, indeed, and tell of the rest which remains. They sing in our ears with soft and gentle voices and tell us that we shall not always need to bow like galley slaves, tugging at the oar of this world’s work, but may even now look up to the place where our Home awaits us and the weary are at rest! These peaceful Lord’ s-Days call us away to the top of Shenir and Hermon, where we may view the land of our inheritance! They cry to us, “Come up higher!” They beckon us to commune with Him “whom having not seen, we love; in whom, though now we see Him not, yet believing, we rejoice with unspeakable joy and full of glory.” All days speak, but Sabbaths speak best—they are orators for God! These resurrection days, these days of the Son of Man—these have angel voices. “He that has ears to hear, let him hear.”