Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 3552
“My beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone.” Solomon’s Song 5:6.
The happiest condition of a Christian out of Heaven is to live in the conscious enjoyment of the Presence of the Lord Jesus. When the love of Christ is shed abroad in the heart by the Holy Spirit, the Believer need not envy an angel his harp of gold! It matters not what may be his outward trial, the Holy Spirit is able to make the heart live above all surrounding circumstances, so that we can have summer in the midst of winter and pluck our ripest fruits when there are neither leaves nor fruits upon the tree. But the Christian is unhappy—unhappy to the utmost degree—whenever he loses the sense of the Presence of his Lord. Then the pillars of his house are made to tremble, his fresh springs are dried up, the sun is hid from his eyes and the sky is so dark overhead that he walks, rather wanders, about a world which cannot render to his soul any substantial comfort. Were he a worldling, he could live upon the world, but having been taught by Divine Grace to aspire after something nobler and better, the loss is exceedingly grievous to his spirit. I question whether the most of Christians do not sometimes lose the enjoyment of the Lord’s company. I question yet further whether there are not very many professors who live contentedly under that loss—nor can I account for this, except on the supposition that they can have known but little of that Presence in their best estate. Otherwise, they must be in a most sickly and slumbering condition of soul, gradually becoming worse and worse—or else they never could bear to have things as they are with them. It seems to me that a real Believer in a sound state of health no sooner loses the Presence of his Lord than he begins to cry for Him. Where has Christ gone? Why have I lost sight of Him? The sounds of His footsteps still linger in the ear. The Believer wakens and starts, and asks himself, “How is this? Where has my Beloved gone? What is it that has chased Him from me? I cannot live if He leaves me, therefore, let me speedily seek Him and never rest until once more I am restored to full communion with Him.” Let me, then, talk a little with such Believers as have lost, for awhile, the comfortable Presence of their Lord. The first question shall be—
I. Why Was the Beloved Gone?
According to the text, He was gone. Read the preceding verses, or perhaps you have them upon your memories. The spouse had been asleep. This was the beginning of the mischief. “I sleep, but my heart wakes.” If we begin to fall asleep, we must not wonder if we miss the quickening and comforting influences of our Lord’s Presence. Jesus Christ did not put us in His Church that we might sleep away our time on earth. Do not fancy that such an active spirit as that which burned and blazed in our Savior’s flesh can be content to hold communion with lazy sluggards who toss upon their bed and say, “Yet a little more sleep and a little more folding of the arms to slumber.” It is the active Christian who keeps pace with Christ! Christ is a quick walker—if you crawl along the path of duty, He will soon leave you behind—until you begin to enquire, “Where is He gone,” and quicken your pace to overtake Him. Are there any here who have missed Christ’s Presence, and who may trace it to the fact that they have been drowsy in prayer of late, heavy in all the exercises of study and duty, and, in fact, altogether sleepy? Have they been without care for the conversion of others, having scarcely any concern, even, about their own children? Are they, perhaps, indifferent to the welfare of Christ’s Church, feeding little upon the Word and resorting but little to the assemblies of the saints? Marvel not if the Beloved withdraws Himself when His spouse does nothing but nod and sleep, instead of keeping company with Him in active service!
After the spouse had fallen asleep, her Beloved came and knocked at the door, saying, “Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled, for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.” Yet she refused to open the door to him. Surely this is another sin which drives Christ away—when admonished for falling into a drowsy state, not to regard it. Depend upon it, there is extreme peril to a soul that does not accept the warning. Awful as it is to sin when unwarned, it is still more horrible to persevere in sin in the teeth of rebuke and after gentle, loving expostulations. What? Did conscience prick me and will I not be scrupulous? After having seen my fault and smarted for it, do I still persist in it? Have I been lukewarm and indifferent? Does the Holy Spirit visit me, remonstrate with me, and make me feel that I am gradually backsliding and little by little declining? Have I vowed and resolved that I would seek spiritual recovery and am I still as dull, careless, and unconcerned as ever? This argues ill and argues ill for my soul! The Beloved will not put up with these rebuffs forever. Out of love to us, He will hide His face. If we grieve Him, He will go. If we walk frowardly towards Him, He will soon walk frowardly towards us. These are God-provoking sins! It is a defying of His Spirit when you thus spurn His gentle admonitions!