I think every profession has its outstanding practitioners: those people who are universally recognized, and whenever you mention their name you think of their profession, and when you think of their profession, you often associate it with their name. In the realm of architecture, it might be Frank Lloyd Wright. In the sphere of physics, it is probably still Einstein. In organ playing, it is probably E. Power Biggs, but in years to come might be Rachel Mahon! In hockey, it might be Wayne Gretzky. In medical research, it might be Banting and Best. In opera, it might be Justin Bieber – in years to come!
In all the professions, in all the areas, there might just be one outstanding person that you think of and that you associate with excellence, with outstanding qualities. Maybe the great jurists would think of Lord Denning. It is interesting to note that sometimes it is just one person who rises that bit more above the ordinary that causes us to universally recognize them.
Well, in preaching, there is one such person. His name was Charles Haddon Spurgeon. Anyone who has a love for preaching and a love for a church that loves preaching knows just how great and influential Charles Haddon Spurgeon was. He was a preacher who preached in the United Kingdom, in London principally, and also in East Anglia, in the middle part of the nineteenth century. He was a man who hardly had a sense of call in the beginning. In fact, he went to church like all his family on a regular basis until one day there was a snow storm, and because of the snow storm it meant he couldn’t make it to his own church, so he went to a tiny Methodist church.
The preacher there gets up and preaches a very simple, very ordinary, actually he thought, very dry sermon. Basically, all he did was repeat a text from the Psalms. He doesn’t even remember it fully, but it was something like, “Those who follow the Lord will rejoice.” Very similar to Psalm 97, today’s text. Nothing very profound, nothing prophetic, no great oratory, but Spurgeon sat there as a sixteen-year old boy and, from that moment on, determined that he was going to be a preacher of the Word.
He takes up the mantle. By nineteen, he is preaching in a large church. By his mid-twenties, he is a star! It is fascinating how successful he was. For example, 25,000 copies of his sermons were printed every week, and often appeared later in twenty-five languages. Thousands of people would turn up to hear him preach on a Sunday morning. The church would be so full that in fact he would ask people not to come back the next Sunday in order that visitors might have room to come. Wouldn’t that be nice if I said that to you? Oh, next Sunday, I don’t want to see you at all! I want to save room for all the visitors we are going to have. Well, maybe not.
Spurgeon was successful. People talked about him. They loved him. They adored him. He was engaging. He was powerful. He was committed to the Gospel. But a second characteristic of his work is that he faced opposition. The opposition thought he was a buffoon. They thought that he was too much of a showman and that his Evangelical preaching was too extreme and demanded too much of its listeners, so-much-so that at one event, when there were 12,000 people there to hear him and another 10,000 sitting outside waiting to get in, his opponents screamed “Fire!” and there was a stampede and seven people died and twenty-eight were injured, and many commented that Spurgeon was never the same. He was so devastated that in a place of worship someone could be that cruel.
Oh, he faced opposition all right, yet he persisted. He also persisted with passion. The thing that made Spurgeon so great was that he wasn’t just interested in the proclamation of the Word, he was interested in the fulfillment of the Gospel in the world. He actually helped create an orphanage for street children and urchins who were roaming the streets of London with nowhere to go, and it was called The Stockwell Orphanage. He brought in children from the poorest parts of London and gave them a home and a start. He was passionate about them, and he said, “It is no good just talking about The Gospel of Jesus Christ if you are not at the same time willing to show it.”
The passage from Romans 12 that I read for you a few moments ago was the passion in his life and in him wanting to do this. But, he still faced opposition! “Look at all the time that he is spending” complained his congregants, “taking care of the street kids when he should be spending more time taking care of us.” You can’t win sometimes!
There was one other thing about him: he suffered. He was somebody who in his life never had good health really. It is well known that he suffered from depression; so-much-so that it was almost impossible at times to get up and stand in front of people in the pulpit. But as soon as he did, the Holy Spirit gave him courage and strength. Spurgeon was physically ill: his kidneys never worked properly, he was always in pain and he was bedridden. Yet he would come out of that bed and he would read voraciously and he would write extensively and he would preach passionately, and he would visit his congregation because he cared for them. He loved them more than anything else in the whole world. It was one of the great loves of his life, and he was willing to suffer for it.
One day he made a very powerful statement. The reason I want to emphasize Spurgeon this morning is this very phrase. He said, “Strong churches cannot be built upon a weak God.” He says that one of the problems is that for so many within the church, they see with only one eye and they listen with only one ear. They have a partial view of God: a God that maybe is acceptable to the one eye and to the one ear, but not the fullness of the power of the sovereign God.
This is why Spurgeon loved, probably more than any of the other Psalms the one that was read this morning, Psalm 97. This Psalm is about a strong God. It is part of a series of Psalms, from Psalm 93 to Psalm 100 that were written at a time when the people needed assurance. It remembers the bringing of the Ark of the Covenant into Jerusalem. It celebrates the high moments for the people of Israel. The psalmist is writing about the glory and the majesty of God. Listen to the language of Psalm 97. It is one of glorious cosmic power: “The Lord reigns. Let the Earth be glad! Let the distant shores rejoice. Clouds and thick darkness surround him. Righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne. Fire goes before him and consumes his foes on every side. The heavens proclaim his righteousness, and all the peoples see his glory.”
There is this sort of animated theophany, which is the philosophical term, this movement, this power of God manifesting himself in creation. This is the reign of God. This is the sovereign God. And, there are to be no other gods, except this God. “All the nations” writes the psalmist, “know this God.” This God is high and exalted, the strong God that Spurgeon speaks of.
Yet, in this strength there is subtlety. There is a nuance to all of this, because this God also acts in obscurity as well as in sovereignty. God actually hides himself at times. Listen to that verse I just read: “Clouds and thick darkness surround him.” There is this sense that we do not see and cannot comprehend the total, complete wonder and awesomeness of God. The problem is that when that happens, people doubt. When they don’t see everything they want to see of God, they then question God. God becomes like a weak God; not a strong God.
We ask ourselves so many questions. Where was God when there was a car accident? Where was God when an Orange helicopter goes down? Where was God when floods and tornadoes strike parts of our continent? “Where is God?” we say! But God is always hidden from us as well. “Clouds and darkness surround him.” His hand is not always seen, yet the faithful say they believe. The faithful still say “God reigns.” It becomes a matter of faith, but it is a faith.”
I was trying to think how this manifests itself in natural phenomenon. I was thinking back, as a boy, to my parents taking me on holiday to a place called Port ‘O’ Call in Wales. It is a lovely place, with great beaches, just a wonderful place, hardly on the map for most visitors, yet a great place. I had wonderful summers there. It didn’t always have the nicest weather and my mother would always warm me that if I were to go out on to the beach, I would always have to put some suntan lotion on or keep a shirt and a hat on, because playing on the beach she said can still be dangerous – you can still get burned.
Well, I went out one day to the beach, and it was very cloudy, and I ignored my mother’s instructions and just romped around the beach all day in my swimming trunks and had a fabulous time. I then came back to the hotel room and tried to put on my shirt and you all know what happened – right? I was so badly sunburned I actually had to go to the local hospital for treatment. Why? It was because of the radiating power of the sun through the clouds. Just because it is cloudy doesn’t mean that there aren’t UV rays!
That is the same with God. Just because God might seem at times to be obscured, his hand not always inevitable and prevalent does not mean that God is still not sovereign, that God’s ways and God’s eternal graciousness are not there. The psalmist understood this. He knew it. He says, “Clouds and thick darkness surround him, but righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne, and the heavens proclaim his righteousness.” Big God! Strong God! Spurgeon’s God!