Traveling Down the Ladder of Self Knowledge
C. H. Spurgeon
Inherently, we are like the Pharisee in his boast, “God, I thank thee I am not as other men are.” The Pharisee would see no chaff in his wheat, whereas grace makes us like the publican, who could see no wheat in his chaff, and would only say, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” It is hard going down the ladder of self knowledge. We give up with great reluctance our flattering opinions of ourselves. We are hard to empty of the notion of our own inherent merit; and if the Lord spills that upon the ground, we then hold to the idea of our own inherent strength. What if we have no merit, yet at least we will have some by-and-by, and we spin out our poor resolves as freely as a spider spins her web, and the fabric is as frail. And if our notion of power be taken from us, we then latch on to our self-justification, by endeavoring to persuade ourselves that we are not responsible; or wrapping ourselves in despair, we declare that we cannot help ourselves, and wickedly cast our ruin upon destiny. Man is hard to be dragged away from the rock of self-justification. Like Theseus in the old mythology, he is glued so fast to the great stone of self-conceit which lies hard by the gates of hell, that a stronger the Hercules is needed to tear him from it’ and even such a deliverer must rend him from it, leaving the skin behind. When the Lord comes and makes the sinner stand before his bar and plead, “Lord I am guilty,” the man is made ready to receive of Christ’s merits because he is emptied of his own. Hear him again: “Lord I would repent and believe, but oh! I have no strength for this; be thou my helper.” The man’s own power is gone, and with it his hardness of heart. He confessed that he has willfully and wickedly sinned, and how the Lord pours of his grace and mercy. Our Lord withholds from those who are full, but he is always ready to give to those who are empty. Never does he keep back anything from those who are consciously in need. Never does he give anything to those who say they need nothing. There must be in each of us then, and emptiness of self if we are to enjoy the fullness of Christ.
But he who knows the emptiness of self is not therefore saved. The man who knows he has a fever, is not cured by that knowledge. The man who knows that he is condemned to die, is not for that reason pardoned. It is a dreadful thing to stop short with a mere sense of sin; we must go on to the second experience—a personal reception of Christ Jesus. Here I shall put the question to each of my hearers, especially to professors of religion, “Have you received out of Christ’s fullness?”
C. H. Spurgeon
Inherently, we are like the Pharisee in his boast, “God, I thank thee I am not as other men are.” The Pharisee would see no chaff in his wheat, whereas grace makes us like the publican, who could see no wheat in his chaff, and would only say, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” It is hard going down the ladder of self knowledge. We give up with great reluctance our flattering opinions of ourselves. We are hard to empty of the notion of our own inherent merit; and if the Lord spills that upon the ground, we then hold to the idea of our own inherent strength. What if we have no merit, yet at least we will have some by-and-by, and we spin out our poor resolves as freely as a spider spins her web, and the fabric is as frail. And if our notion of power be taken from us, we then latch on to our self-justification, by endeavoring to persuade ourselves that we are not responsible; or wrapping ourselves in despair, we declare that we cannot help ourselves, and wickedly cast our ruin upon destiny. Man is hard to be dragged away from the rock of self-justification. Like Theseus in the old mythology, he is glued so fast to the great stone of self-conceit which lies hard by the gates of hell, that a stronger the Hercules is needed to tear him from it’ and even such a deliverer must rend him from it, leaving the skin behind. When the Lord comes and makes the sinner stand before his bar and plead, “Lord I am guilty,” the man is made ready to receive of Christ’s merits because he is emptied of his own. Hear him again: “Lord I would repent and believe, but oh! I have no strength for this; be thou my helper.” The man’s own power is gone, and with it his hardness of heart. He confessed that he has willfully and wickedly sinned, and how the Lord pours of his grace and mercy. Our Lord withholds from those who are full, but he is always ready to give to those who are empty. Never does he keep back anything from those who are consciously in need. Never does he give anything to those who say they need nothing. There must be in each of us then, and emptiness of self if we are to enjoy the fullness of Christ.
But he who knows the emptiness of self is not therefore saved. The man who knows he has a fever, is not cured by that knowledge. The man who knows that he is condemned to die, is not for that reason pardoned. It is a dreadful thing to stop short with a mere sense of sin; we must go on to the second experience—a personal reception of Christ Jesus. Here I shall put the question to each of my hearers, especially to professors of religion, “Have you received out of Christ’s fullness?”