A Word to the Church

One of the things I like to do is read old sermons.  Though sometimes the words are old, I find they still have a lot to say today.

For example, as far as I can see, there are battles being fought all across the church, regardless of denomination or affiliation or particular ideology, about who is doing it right and who isn’t, who’s in and who is out, who is being faithful to the Gospel and who’s not.

                         

It is in this context that I was particularly struck by Love’s Labors, a sermon preached by C.H. Spurgeon on September 4th, 1881. The following is but an excerpt. Would that the church would listen to it today! 

Now let us look at the second of love's great labors. You have heard of the labors of Hercules, but the fabulous hero is far outdone by the veritable achievements of love. Love works miracles which only grace can enable her to perform. Here is the second of them--love "believeth all things."

In reference, first, to our fellow Christians, love always believes the best of them. I wish we had more of this faith abroad in all the churches, for a horrid blight falls upon some communities through suspicion and mistrust...

Love, as far as she can, believes in her fellows. I know some persons who habitually believe everything that is bad, but they are not the children of love. Only tell them that their minister or their brother has killed his wife, and they would believe it immediately, and send out for a policeman: but if you tell them anything good of their neighbor, they are in no such hurry to believe you.

Did you ever hear of gossips tittle-tattling approval of their neighbors? I wish the chatterers would take a turn at exaggerating other people's virtues, and go from house to house trumping up pretty stories of their acquaintances. I do not recommend lying even in kindness, but that side of it would be such a novelty that I could almost bear with its evils for a change. Love, though it will not speak an untruth in praise of another, yet has a quick eye to see the best qualities of others, and it is habitually a little blind to their failings. Her blind eye is to the fault, and her bright is for the excellence.

Somewhere or other I met with an old legend--I do not suppose it to be literally true, but its spirit is correct. It is said that, once upon a time, in the streets of Jerusalem, there lay a dead dog, and everyone kicked at it and reviled it. One spoke of its currish breed, another of its lean and ugly form, and so forth; but one passed by who paused a moment over the dead dog, and said, "What white teeth it has."

Men said, as he went on his way, "That is Jesus of Nazareth." Surely it is ever our Lord's way to see good points wherever he can. Brethren, think as well as you can even of a dead dog. If you should ever be led into disappointments and sorrows by thinking too well of your fellow-men, you need not greatly blame yourself.

I met, in Anthony Farrindon's Sermons, a line which struck me. He says the old proverb has it, "Humanum est errare," to err is human, but, saith he, when we err by thinking too kindly of others we may say, "Christianum est errare," it is Christian to err in such a fashion. I would not have you credulous, but I would have you trustful, for suspicion is a cruel evil. Few fall into the blessed error of valuing their fellow Christians at too high a rate.

Comments

[hedwyg]

Few fall into the blessed error of valuing their fellow Christians at too high a rate.

Absolutely true - and incredibly sad. Thank you for sharing this excerpt!