Charles Spurgeon Sermons
Sermon #2 - The Remembrance of Christ
Given on 7 January 1855, at New Park Street Chapel, Southwark.
"This do in remembrance of me."—1 Corinthians 11:24.
It seems, then, that Christians may forget
Christ. The text implies the possibility of forgetfulness concerning
him whom gratitude and affection should constrain them to remember.
There could be no need for this loving exhortation, if there were
not a fearful supposition that our memories might prove treacherous,
and our remembrance superficial in its character, or changing in its
nature. Nor is this a bare supposition: it is, alas, too well
confirmed in our experience, not as a possibility, but as a
lamentable fact. It seems at first sight too gross a crime to lay at
the door of converted men. It appears almost impossible that those
who have been redeemed by the blood of the dying Lamb should ever
forget their Ransomer; that those who have been loved with an
everlasting love by the eternal Son of God, should ever forget that
Son; but if startling to the ear, it is alas, too apparent to the
eye to allow us to deny the fact. Forget him who ne'er forgot us!
Forget him who poured his blood forth for our sins! Forget him who
loved us even to the death! Can it be possible? Yes it is not only
possible, but conscience confesses that it is too sadly a fault of
all of us, that we can remember anything except Christ. The object
which we should make the monarch of our hearts, is the very thing we
are most inclined to forget. Where one would think that memory would
linger, and unmindfulness would be an unknown intruder, that is the
spot which is desecrated by the feet of forgetfulness, and that the
place where memory too seldom looks. I appeal to the conscience of
every Christian here: Can you deny the truth of what I utter? Do you
not find yourselves forgetful of Jesus? Some creature steals away
your heart, and you are unmindful of him upon whom your affection
ought to be set. Some earthly business engrosses your attention when
you should have your eye steadily fixed upon the cross. It is the
incessant round of world, world, world; the constant din of earth,
earth, earth, that takes away the soul from Christ. Oh! my friends,
is it not too sadly true that we can recollect anything but Christ,
and forget nothing so easy as him whom we ought to remember? While
memory will preserve a poisoned weed, it suffereth the Rose of
Sharon to wither.
The cause of this is very
apparent: it lies in one or two facts. We forget Christ, because
regenerate persons as we really are, still corruption and death
remain even in the regenerate. We forget him because we carry about
with us the old Adam of sin and death. If we were purely new-born
creatures, we should never forget the name of him whom we love. If
we were entirely regenerated beings, we should sit down and meditate
on all our Saviour did and suffered; all he is; all he has
gloriously promised to perform; and never would our roving
affections stray; but centered, nailed, fixed eternally to one
object, we should continually contemplate the death and sufferings
of our Lord. But alas! we have a worm in the heart, a pest-house, a
charnel-house within, lusts, vile imaginations, and strong evil
passions, which, like wells of poisonous water, send out continually
streams of impurity. I have a heart, which God knoweth, I wish I
could wring from my body and hurl to an infinite distance; a soul
which is a cage of unclean birds, a den of loathsome creatures,
where dragons haunt and owls do congregate, where every evil beast
of ill-omen dwells; a heart too vile to have a parallel—"deceitful
above all things and desperately wicked." This is the reason why I
am forgetful of Christ. Nor is this the sole cause; I suspect it
lies somewhere else too. We forget Christ because there are so many
other things around us to attract our attention. "But," you say,
"they ought not to do so, because though they are around us, they
are nothing in comparison with Jesus Christ: though they are in
dread proximity to our hearts, what are they compared with Christ?"
But do you know, dear friends, that the nearness of an object has a
very great effect upon its power? The sun is many, many times larger
than the moon, but the moon has a greater influence upon the tides
of the ocean than the sun, simply because it is nearer, and has a
greater power of attraction. So I find that a little crawling worm
of the earth has more effect upon my soul than the glorious Christ
in heaven; a handful of golden earth, a puff of fame, a shout of
applause, a thriving business, my house, my home, will affect me
more than all the glories of the upper world; yea, than the beatific
vision itself: simply because earth is near, and heaven is far away.
Happy day, when I shall be borne aloft on angels' wings to dwell for
ever near my Lord, to bask in the sunshine of his smile, and to be
lost in the ineffable radiance of his lovely countenance. We see
then the cause of forgetfulness; let us blush over it; let us be sad
that we neglect our Lord so much, and now let us attend to his word,
"This do in remembrance of me," hoping that its solemn sounds may
charm away the demon of base ingratitude.
We shall speak, first of all,
concerning the blessed object of memory; secondly, upon
the advantages to be derived from remembering this Person;
thirdly, the gracious help, to our memory—"This do in
remembrance of me;" and fourthly, the gentle command, "
This do in remembrance of me." May the Holy Ghost open my lips
and your hearts, that we may receive blessings.
I. First of all, we shall speak
of THE GLORIOUS AND PRECIOUS OBJECT OF MEMORY—"This do in
remembrance of ME." Christians have many treasures to lock up
in the cabinet of memory. They ought to remember their election—"Chosen
of God ere time began." They ought to be mindful of their
extraction, that they were taken out of the miry clay, hewn out
of the horrible pit. They ought to recollect their effectual
calling, for they were called of God, and rescued by the power
of the Holy Ghost. They ought to remember their special
deliverances—all that has been done for them, and all the
mercies bestowed on them. But there is one whom they should embalm
in their souls with the most costly spices—one who, above all other
gifts of God, deserves to be had in perpetual remembrance. One
I said, for I mean not an act, I mean not a deed; but it is a Person
whose portrait I would frame in gold, and hang up in the state-room
of the soul. I would have you earnest students of all the deeds
of the conquering Messiah. I would have you conversant with the
life of our Beloved. But O forget not his person; for the
text says, "This do in remembrance of me." It is Christ's glorious
person which ought to be the object of our remembrance. It is his
image which should be enshrined in every temple of the Holy Ghost.
But some will say, "How can we
remember Christ's person, when we never saw it? We cannot tell what
was the peculiar form of his visage; we believe his countenance to
be fairer than that of any other man—although through grief and
suffering more marred—but since we did not see it, we cannot
remember it. We never saw his feet as they trod the journeys of his
mercy; we never beheld his hands as he stretched them out full of
lovingkindness; we cannot remember the wondrous intonation of his
language, when in more than seraphic eloquence, he awed the
multitude, and chained their ears to him; we cannot picture the
sweet smile that ever hung on his lips, nor that awful frown with
which he dealt out anathemas against the Pharisees; we cannot
remember him in his sufferings and agonies, for we never saw him."
Well, beloved, I suppose it is true that you cannot remember the
visible appearance, for you were not then born; but do you not know
that even the apostle said, though he had known Christ after the
flesh, yet, thenceforth after the flesh he would know Christ no
more. The natural appearance, the race, the descent, the poverty,
the humble garb, were nothing in the apostle's estimation of his
glorified Lord. And thus, though you do not know him after the
flesh, you may know him after the spirit; in this manner you can
remember Jesus as much now as Peter, or Paul, or John, or James, or
any of those favoured ones who once trod in his footsteps, walked
side by side with him, or laid their heads upon his bosom. Memory
annihilates distance and over leapeth time, and can behold the Lord,
though he be exalted in glory.
Ah! let us spend five minutes in
remembering Jesus. Let us remember him in his baptism, when
descending into the waters of Jordan, a voice was heard, saying,
"This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." Behold him
coming up dripping from the stream! Surely the conscious water must
have blushed that it contained its God. He slept within its waves a
moment, to consecrate the tomb of baptism, in which those who are
dead with Christ are buried with him. Let us remember him in the
wilderness, whither he went straight from his immersion. Oh! I
have often thought of that scene in the desert, when Christ, weary
and way-worn, sat him down, perhaps upon the gnarled roots of some
old tree. Forty days that he fasted, he was an hungered, when in the
extremity of his weakness there came the evil spirit. Perhaps he had
veiled his demon royalty in the form of some aged pilgrim, and
taking up a stone, said, "Way-worn pilgrim, if thou be the Son of
God command this stone to be made bread." Methinks I see him, with
his cunning smile, and his malicious leer, as he held the stone, and
said, "If,"—blasphemous if,—"If thou be the Son of God, command that
this stone shall become a meal for me and thee, for both of us are
hungry, and it will be an act of mercy; thou canst do it easily;
speak the word, and it shall be like the bread of heaven; we will
feed upon it, and thou and I will be friends for ever." But Jesus
said—and O how sweetly did he say it—"Man shall not live by bread
alone." Oh! how wonderfully did Christ fight the tempter! Never was
there such a battle as that. It was a duel foot to foot—a
single-handed combat—when the champion lion of the pit, and the
mighty lion of the tribe of Judah, fought together. Splendid sight!
Angels stood around to gaze upon the spectacle, just as men of old
did sit to see the tournament of noted warriors. There Satan
gathered up his strength; here Apollyon concentrated all his satanic
power, that in this giant wrestle he might overthrow the seed of the
woman. But Jesus was more than a match for him; in the wrestling he
gave him a deadly fall, and came off more than a conqueror. Lamb of
God! I will remember thy desert strivings, when next I combat with
Satan. When next I have a conflict with roaring Diabolus, I will
look to him who conquered once for all, and broke the dragon's head
with his mighty blows.
Further, I beseech you remember
him in all his daily temptations and hourly trials, in that
life-long struggle of his, through which he passed. Oh! what a
mighty tragedy was the death of Christ! and his life too? Ushered in
with a song, it closed with a shriek. "It is finished." It began in
a manger, and ended on a cross; but oh, the sad interval between!
Oh! the black pictures of persecution, when his friends abhorred
him; when his foes frowned at him as he passed the streets; when he
heard the hiss of calumny, and was bitten by the foul tooth of envy;
when slander said he had a devil and was mad: that he was a drunken
man and a wine-bibber; and when his righteous soul was vexed with
the ways of the wicked. Oh! Son of God, I must remember thee; I
cannot help remembering thee, when I think of those years of toil
and trouble which thou didst live for my sake. But you know my
chosen theme—the place where I can always best remember Christ. It
is a shady garden full of olives. O that spot! I would that I had
eloquence, that I might take you there. Oh! if the Spirit would but
take us, and set us down hard by the mountains of Jerusalem, I would
say, see there runs the brook of Kedron, which the king himself did
pass; and there you see the olive trees. Possibly, at the foot of
that olive, lay the three disciples when they slept; and there, ah!
there, I see drops of blood. Stand here, my soul, a moment; those
drops of blood—dost thou behold them? Mark them; they are not the
blood of wounds; they are the blood of a man whose body was then
unwounded. O my soul picture him when he knelt down in agony and
sweat,—sweat, because he wrestled with God,—sweat, because he
agonized with his Father. "My Father, if it be possible, let this
cup pass from me." O Gethsemane! thy shades are deeply solemn to my
soul. But ah! those drops of blood! Surely it is the climax of the
height of misery; it is the last of the mighty acts of this wondrous
sacrifice. Can love go deeper than that? Can it stoop to greater
deeds of mercy? Oh! had I eloquence, I would bestow a tongue on
every drop of blood that is there; that your hearts might rise in
mutiny against your languor and coldness, and speak out with earnest
burning remembrance of Jesus. And now, farewell, Gethsemane.
But I will take you somewhere
else, where you shall still behold the "Man of Sorrows." I will lead
you to Pilate's hall, and let you see him endure the mockeries of
cruel soldiers: the smitings of mailed gloves; the blows of clenched
fists; the shame; the spitting, the plucking of the hair: the cruel
buffetings. Oh! can you not picture the King of Martyrs, stript of
his garments; exposed to the gaze of fiend-like men? See you not the
crown about his temples, each thorn acting as a lancet to pierce his
head? Mark you not his lacerated shoulders, and the white bones
starting out from the bleeding flesh? Oh, Son of Man! I see thee
scourged and flagellated with rods and whips, how can I henceforward
cease to remember thee? My memory would be more treacherous than
Pilate, did it not every cry, Ecce Homo,—"Behold the man."
Now, finish the scene of woe by a
view of Calvary. Think of the pierced hands and the bleeding side;
think of the scorching sun, and then the entire darkness; remember
the broiling fever and the dread thirst; think of the death shriek,
"It is finished!" and of the groans which were its prelude. This is
the object of memory. Let us never forget Christ. I beseech you, for
the love of Jesus, let him have the chief place in your memories.
Let not the pearl of great price be dropped from your careless hand
into the dark ocean of oblivion.
I cannot, however, help saying
one thing before I leave this head: and that is, there are some of
you who can very well carry away what I have said, because you have
read it often, and heard it before; but still you cannot spiritually
remember anything about Christ, because you never had him manifested
to you, and what we have never known, we cannot remember. Thanks be
unto God, I speak not of you all, for in this place there is a
goodly remnant according to the election of grace, and to them I
turn. Perhaps I could tell you of some old barn, hedge-row, or
cottage; or if you have lived in London, about some garret, or some
dark lane or street, where first you met with Christ; or some chapel
into which you strayed, and you might say, "Thank God, I can
remember the seat where first he met with me, and spoke the whispers
of love to my soul, and told me he had purchased me."
Where Jesus did thee meet?"
Yes, and I would love to build a temple on the spot, and to raise some monument there, where Jehovah-Jesus first spoke to my soul, and manifested himself to me. But he has revealed himself to you more than once—has he not? And you can remember scores of places where the Lord hath appeared of old unto you, saying, "Behold I have loved you with an everlasting love." If you cannot all remember such things, there are some of you that can; and I am sure they will understand me when I say, come and do this in remembrance of Christ—in remembrance of all his loving visitations, of his sweet wooing words, of his winning smiles upon you, of all he has said and communicated to your souls. Remember all these things tonight, if it be possible for memory to gather up the mighty aggregate of grace. "Bless the Lord. O my soul, and forget not all his benefits."
II. Having spoken upon the
blessed object of our memory, we say, secondly, a little upon THE
BENEFITS TO BE DERIVED FROM A LOVING REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST.Love never says, "Cui bono?"
Love never asks what benefit it will derive from love. Love from its
very nature is a disinterested thing. It loves; for the creature's
sake it loves, and for nothing else. The Christian needs no argument
to make him love Christ; just as a mother needs no argument to make
her love her child. She does it because it is her nature to do so.
The new-born creature must love Christ, it cannot help it. Oh! who
can resist the matchless charms of Jesus Christ?—the fairest of ten
thousand fairs, the loveliest of ten thousand loves. Who can refuse
to adore the prince of perfection, the mirror of beauty, the
majestic Son of God? But yet it may be useful to us to observe the
advantages of remembering Christ, for they are neither few nor
small.And first, remembrance of Jesus
will tend to give you hope when you are under the burden of your
sins. Notice a few characters here tonight. There comes in a
poor creature. Look at him! He has neglected himself this last
month; he looks as if he had hardly eaten his daily bread. What is
the matter with you? "Oh!" says he, "I have been under a sense of
guilt; I have been again and again lamenting, because I fear I can
never be forgiven; once I thought I was good, but I have been
reading the Bible, and I find that my heart is 'deceitful above all
things, and desperately wicked;' I have tried to reform, but the
more I try, the deeper I sink in the mire, there is certainly no
hope for me. I feel that I deserve no mercy; it seems to me that God
must destroy me, for he has declared, 'The soul that sinneth it
shall die;' and die I must, be damned I must, for I know I have
broken God's law." How will you comfort such a man? What soft words
will you utter to give him peace? I know! I will tell thee
that there is one, who for thee hath made a complete atonement; if
thou only believest on him thou art safe for ever. Remember him,
thou poor dying, hopeless creature, and thou shalt be made to sing
for joy and gladness. See, the man believes, and in ecstasy
exclaims, "Oh! come all ye that fear God, and I will tell you what
he hath done for my soul."
I am, I am out of hell."
Hallelujah! God hath blotted out my sins like a thick cloud! That is one benefit to be derived from remembering Christ. It gives us hope under a sense of sin, and tells us there is mercy yet.
Now, I must have another
character. And what does he say? "I cannot stand it any longer; I
have been persecuted and ill-treated, because I love Christ; I am
mocked, and laughed at, and despised: I try to bear it, but I really
cannot. A man will be a man; tread upon a worm and he will turn upon
you; my patience altogether fails me; I am in such a peculiar
position that it is of no use to advise me to have patience, for
patience I cannot have; my enemies are slandering me, and I do not
know what to do." What shall we say to that poor man? How shall we
give him patience? What shall we preach to him? You have heard what
he has to say about himself. How shall we comfort him under this
great trial? If we suffered the same, what should we wish some
friend to say to us? Shall we tell him that other persons have borne
as much? He will say, "Miserable comforters are ye all!" No, I will
tell him, "Brother, you are persecuted; but remember the words of
Jesus Christ, how he spake unto us, and said, 'Rejoice in that day,
and leap for joy, for great is your reward in heaven, for so
persecuted they the prophets that were before you." My brother!
think of him, who, when he died, prayed for his murderers, and said,
"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." All you have
to bear, is as nothing compared with his mighty sufferings. Take
courage; face it again like a man; never say die. Let not your
patience be gone; take up your cross daily, and follow Christ. Let
him be your motto; set him before your eyes. And, now, receiving
this, hear what the man will say. He tells you at once—"Hail,
persecution; welcome shame. Disgrace for Jesus shall be my honor,
and scorn shall be my highest glory.
What was my gain I count my loss,
I pour contempt on all my shame,
And nail my glory to his cross.'"
There is another effect, you see, to remembering Christ. It tends to give us patience under persecution. It is a girdle to brace up the loins, so that our faith may endure to the end.
Dear friends, I should occupy
your time too much if I went into the several benefits; so I will
only just run over one or two blessings to be received. It will give
us strength in temptation. I believe that there are hours
with every man, when he has a season of terrific temptation. There
was never a vessel that lived upon the mighty deep but sometimes it
had to do battle with a storm. There she is, the poor barque, rocked
up and down on the mad waves. See how they throw her from wave to
wave, and toss her to mid heaven. The winds laugh her to scorn. Old
Ocean takes the ship in his dripping fingers, and shakes it to and
fro. How the mariners cry out for fear! Do you know how you can put
oil upon the waters, and all shall be still? Yes. One potent word
shall do it. Let Jesus come; let the poor heart remember Jesus, and
steadily then the ship shall sail, for Christ has the helm. The
winds shall blow no more, for Christ shall bid them shut their
mighty mouths, and never again disturb his child. There is nothing
which can give you strength in temptation, and help you to weather
the storm, like the name of Jesus Christ, the incarnate Son of God.
Then again, what comfort it will give you on a sick bed—the
name of Christ! It will help you to be patient to those who wait
upon you, and to endure the sufferings which you have to bear; yea,
it shall be so with you, that you shall have more hope in sickness
than in health, and shall find a blessed sweetness in the bitterness
of gall. Instead of feeling vinegar in your mouth, through your
trouble, you shall find honey for sweetness, in the midst of all the
trial and trouble that God will put upon you, "For he giveth
songs in the night."But just to close up the
advantages of remembering Christ, do you know where you will have
the benefit most of all? Do you know the place where chiefly you
will rejoice that you ever thought of him? I will take you to it.
Hush! Silence! You are going up stairs into a lonely room. The
curtains hang down. Some one stands there weeping. Children are
around the bed, and friends are there. See that man lying? That is
yourself. Look at him; his eyes are your eyes; his hands are your
hands. That is yourself. You will be there soon. Man! that is
yourself. Do you see it? It is a picture of yourself. Those are your
eyes that soon will be closed in death—your hands, that will lie
stiff and motionless—your lips that will be dry and parched, between
which they will put drops of water. Those are your words that freeze
in air, and drop so slowly from your dying lips. I wonder whether
you will be able to remember Christ there. If you do not, I will
picture you. Behold that man, straight up in the bed; see his eyes
starting from their sockets. His friends are all alarmed; they ask
him what he sees. He represses the emotion; he tells them he sees
nothing. They know that there is something before his eyes. He
starts again. Good God! what is that I see—I seem to see? What is
it? Ah! one sigh! The soul is gone. The body is there. What did he
see? He saw a flaming throne of judgment; he saw God upon it, with
his sceptre; he saw books opened; he beheld the throne of God, and
saw a messenger, with a sword brandished in the air to smite him
low. Man! that is thyself; there thou wilt be soon. That picture is
thine own portrait. I have photographed thee to the life. Look at
it. That is where thou shalt be within a few years—ay, within a few
days. But if thou canst remember Christ, shall I tell thee what thou
wilt do? Oh! thou wilt smile in the midst of trouble. Let me picture
such a man. They put pillows behind him; he sits up in bed, and
takes the hand of the loved one, and says, "Farewell! weep not for
me; the kind God shall wipe away all tears from every eye." Those
round about are addressed, "Prepare to meet your God, and follow me
to the land of bliss." Now he has set his house in order. All is
done. Behold him, like good old Jacob, leaning on his staff, about
to die. See how his eyes sparkle; he claps his hands; they gather
round to hear what he has to say; he whispers "Victory!" and
summoning a little more strength, he cries, "Victory!" and at last,
with his final gasp, "Victory, through him that loved us!" and he
dies. This is one of the great benefits to be derived from
remembering Christ—to be enabled to meet death with blessed
composure.III. We are now arrived at the
third portion of our meditation, which is a SWEET AID TO MEMORY.At schools we used certain books,
called "Aids to Memory." I am sure they rather perplexed than
assisted me. Their utility was equivalent to that of a bundle of
staves under a traveller's arm: true he might use them one by one to
walk with, but in the mean time he carried a host of others which he
would never need. But our Saviour was wiser than all our teachers,
and his remembrances are true and real aids to memory. His love
tokens have an unmistakeable language, and they sweetly win our
attention.Behold the whole mystery of the
sacred Eucharist. It is bread and wine which are lively emblems of
the body and blood of Jesus. The power to excite remembrance
consists in the appeal thus made to the senses. Here the eye,
the hand, the mouth, find joyful work. The bread is tasted, and
entering within, works upon the sense of taste, which is one of the
most powerful. The wine is sipped—the act is palpable. We know that
we are drinking, and thus the senses, which are usually clogs to the
soul, become wings to lift the mind in contemplation. Again, much of
the influence of this ordinance is found in its simplicity. How
beautifully simple the ceremony is—bread broken and wine poured out.
There is no calling that thing a chalice, that thing a paten, and
that a host. Here is nothing to burden the memory—here is the simple
bread and wine. He must have no memory at all who cannot remember
that he has eaten bread, and that he has been drinking wine. Note
again, the mighty pregnancy of these signs—how full they are
of meaning. Bread broken—so was your Saviour broken. Bread to be
eaten—so his flesh is meat indeed. Wine poured out, the pressed
juice of the grape—so was your Saviour crushed under the foot of
divine justice: his blood is your sweetest wine. Wine to cheer your
heart—so does the blood of Jesus. Wine to strengthen and invigorate
you—so does the blood of the mighty sacrifice. Oh! make that bread
and wine to your souls tonight a sweet and blessed help of
remembrance of that dear Man who once on Calvary died. Like the
little ewe lamb, you are now to eat your Master's bread and drink
from his cup. Remember the hand which feeds you.But before you can remember
Christ well here, you must ask the assistance of the Holy Spirit. I
believe there ought to be a preparation before the Lord's Supper. I
do not believe in Mrs. Toogood's preparation, who spent a week in
preparing, and then finding it was not the Ordinance Sunday, she
said she had lost all the week. I do not believe in that kind of
preparation, but I do believe in a holy preparation for the Lord's
Supper: when we can on a Saturday if possible, spend an hour in
quiet meditation on Christ, and the passion of Jesus; when,
especially on the Sabbath afternoon, we can devoutly sit down and
behold him, then these scenes become realities, and not mockeries,
as they are to some. I fear greatly that there are some of you who
will drink the wine, and not think of his blood: and vile hypocrites
you will be while you do it. Take heed to yourselves, "He that
eateth and drinketh" unworthily, eateth and
drinketh—what?—"damnation to himself." This is a plain English word;
mind what you are doing! Do not do it carelessly; for of all the
sacred things on earth, it is the most solemn. We have heard of some
men banded together by drawing blood from their arms and drinking it
all round; that was most horrid, but at the same time most solemn.
Here you are to drink blood from the veins of Christ, and sip the
trickling stream which gushed from his own loving heart. Is not that
a solemn thing? Ought anybody to trifle with it? To go to church and
take it for sixpence? To come and join us for the sake of getting
charities? Out upon it! It is an awful blasphemy against Almighty
God; and amongst the damned in hell, those shall be among the most
accursed who dared thus to mock the holy ordinance of God. This is
the remembrance of Christ. "This do in remembrance of me." If you
cannot do it in remembrance of Christ, I beseech you, as you love
your souls, do not do it at all. Oh! regenerate man or woman, enter
not into the court of the priests, lest Israel's God resent the
intrusion.IV. And now to close up. Here is
a sweet command: "This do in remembrance of me." To whom does this
command apply? "This do ye." It is important to answer this
question—"This do ye," Who are intended? Ye who put your trust in
me. "This do ye in remembrance of me." Well, now, you should
suppose Christ speaking to you tonight; and he says, "This do ye in
remembrance of me." Christ watches you at the door. Some of you go
home, and Christ says, "I thought I said, 'This do ye in remembrance
of me.'" Some of you keep your seats as spectators. Christ sits with
you, and he says, "I thought I said, 'This do ye in remembrance of
me.'" "Lord, I know you did." "Do you love me then?" "Yes, I love
thee; I love, Lord; thou knowest I do." "But, I say, go down
there—eat that bread, drink that wine." "I do not like to, Lord; I
should have to be baptized if I joined that church, and I am afraid
I shall catch cold, or be looked at. I am afraid to go before the
church, for I think they would ask some questions I could not
answer." "What," says Christ, "is this all you love me? Is this all
your affection to your Lord. Oh! how cold to me, your Saviour. If I
had loved you no more than this, you would have been in hell: if
that were the full extent of my affection, I should not have died
for you. Great love bore great agonies; and is this all your
gratitude to me?" Are not some of you ashamed, after this? Do you
not say in your hearts, "it is really wrong?" Christ says, "Do this
in remembrance of me," and are you not ashamed to stay away? I give
a free invitation to every lover of Jesus to come to this table. I
beseech you, deny not yourselves the privilege by refusing to unite
with the church. If you still live in sinful neglect of this
ordinance, let me remind you that Christ has said, "Whosoever shall
be ashamed of me in this generation, of him will I be ashamed, when
I come in the glory of my Father." Oh, soldier of the cross, act not
the coward's part!And not to lead you into any
mistakes, I must just add one thing, and then I have done. When I
speak of your taking the ordinance of the Lord's Supper, do not
imagine that I wish you for one moment to suppose that there is
anything saving in it. Some say that the ordinance of baptism is
non-essential, so is the ordinance of the Lord's Supper, it is
non-essential, if we look upon it in the light of salvation. Be
saved by eating a piece of bread! Nonsense, confounded nonsense! Be
saved by drinking a drop of wine! Why, it is too absurd for common
sense to admit any discussion upon. You know it is the blood of
Jesus Christ; it is the merit of his agonies; it is the purchase of
his sufferings; it is what he did, that alone can save us. Venture
on him; venture wholly, and then you are saved. Hearest thou, poor
convinced sinner, the way of salvation? If I ever meet thee in the
next world, thou mightest, perhaps, say to me, "I spent one evening,
sir, in hearing you, and you never told me the way to heaven." Well,
thou shalt hear it. Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, trust in his
righteousness, and thou art saved beyond the vengeance of the law,
or the power of hell. But trust in thine own works, and thou art
lost as sure as thou art alive.Now, O ever glorious Son of God,
we approach thy table to feast on the viands of grace, permit each
of us, in reliance upon thy Spirit, to exclaim in the words of one
of thine own poets:
And all thy love to me—
Yes, while a pulse or breath remains,
I will remember thee.
And when these failing lips grow dumb,
And thought and memory flee;
When thou shalt in thy kingdom come,
Jesus, remember me!"
If you are not a Christian, and you have been holding out on making a decision for Christ because the Church always preached a message that was contrary to what you saw in the scientific world, then rest assured that the Bible is the inerrant Word of God, and you can believe in Christ and receive salvation, while still believing in an old earth. Click here for more.
Are you a Christian who believes in young earth creationism? Now that we have shown the many difficulties of the young earth creation science model in this and many other articles, how does this impact your Christian life? If you are a young earth creationism believer, click here.
Spurgeon and the Age of the Earth
Notable Christians Open to an Old Earth
Old Earth Creationist Testimonies
Did you know that you can be a Christian,
and believe that the earth is billions of years old? You can even
believe in evolution and be a Christian. There is no conflict
between science and the Bible...all one needs is a proper
understanding how to merge science and the Bible. To learn more
about old earth creationism, see
Old Earth Belief,
or check out the article
Can You Be A
Christian and Believe in an Old Earth?
Feel free to check out more of this website. Our goal is to
provide rebuttals to the bad science behind young earth creationism,
and honor God by properly presenting His creation.