Charles Spurgeon on Drunkenness:

“My soul might be perpetually dropping showers of tears, if it might know the doom and destruction brought on by that one demon, and by that one demon only! Though I am no total abstainer, I hate drunkenness as much as any man breathing, and have been the means of bringing many poor creatures to relinquish this bestial indulgence. We believe drunkenness to be an awful crime and a horrid sin. We stand prepared to go to war with it. How many thousands are murdered every year by that accursed devil of drunkenness!”

When I came across this quote I was surprised. Not that Spurgeon would  hold these views. That seems rather obvious—He was the ‘last of the puritans’. No, I was surprised at how circumstantial his reasoning was. I mean that he doesn’t appeal directly to scripture for it. In theory, were the circumstances different, he might have a different opinion.

That’s strange for a Puritan—especial over a rule of such stringent adherence. I’m not really disagreeing with him. Really, I just found it really interesting that this was the foundation for his opinion.

All of Grace is Charles Spurgeon’s published evangelistic work aimed completely at the unbeliever. It’s written as a letter, to plead with them to consider the Gospel of Jesus and surrender to the Holy Spirit.

I started reading All of Grace partially because I’d been meaning to read it for quite some time now. But also in part because I really needed to re-digest some of the basic tenants of God’s grace. And who better to help me do that than the Prince of Preachers himself, Charles Spurgeon?

All of Grace is, as it’s title suggests, all about grace. Spurgeon is careful not to lay any kind of burdens on the shoulders of his God-seeking readers. He intends to make clear that salvation is absolutely a total act of God’s grace on undeserving sinners. He wants no one misunderstanding what he says and attempting to earn their salvation. To this effect, Spurgeon says in the beginning of his second chapter:

“…this book does not come to make a demand upon you, but to bring you something. We are not going to talk about law, and duty, and punishment, but about love, and goodness, and forgiveness, and mercy, and eternal life.”

This is absolutely the feeling you get as your read. Spurgeon exalts the grace of God high, just as God himself did when he gave up Jesus to death.

Spurgeon speaks to unbelievers who already had some working knowledge of Jesus. Probably church goers who are solely that and nothing more. He doesn’t retouch on a lot of foundational issues—such as what happened at the cross. But from the starting point he takes, he covers grace with fervency and care.

Unfortunately, Spurgeon is speaking to an extinct generation. While the Gospel is timeless, Spurgeon’s methods are not. There are very few unbelievers that I believe would likely benefit from this work. It’s written with some clear cultural presuppositions that are simply irrelevant today. However, I don’t think that nullifies the books great usefulness.

All of Grace can serve as a great reminder and a great encouragement to walking believers and almost-walking believers. And that is who I will recommend read this book. Anyone feeling the weight of their faith will remember the lightness of Jesus’ yoke after taking in these words. It’s an easy read, cheap in print and free online.

All of Grace can be read for free online, here.

I have a tendency when sin or struggle makes life difficult to want to retreat. A cave is always the imagery in my mind. The idea of escaping everything around me and living quietly out of anyone’s reach is appealing in those times.

While reading in Spurgeon’s All of Grace today, he spoke to my inclination:

“If we were to shut ourselves up in the lone cell of a hermit, temptation would follow us; for as long as we cannot escape from ourselves we cannot escape from incitements to sin.”

Spurgeon is right. The inclination to flee into solitude at the threat or torment of sin is nothing more than an attempt to retreat from self, which is nonsense. And, since it’s within self that sin and struggle find their gravitation pull, it wouldn’t matter how deeply into reclusion one dove, “we cannot escape from incitements to sin”.

Spurgeon, in All of Grace, on the quickening effects of the Holy Spirit on a man’s sorrow and response to sin:

The quickened spirit is more afraid of sin itself than of the penal results of it. The cry of your heart is not, "Who shall deliver me from punishment?" but, "O wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from the body of this death? Who shall enable me to live above temptation, and to become holy, even as God is holy?"

What is more painful, the moral wrong or the pending consequence for that moral wrong? The way our hearts respond to sin, I think, goes a long way in revealing the true state of our souls.

I have had a great deal of trouble rectifying the reality of new birth and life, with the fact that no Christian will ever stop sinning. How can repentance be true if the sin is returned to? And, if the repentance isn’t true, then how can there be remission of sins? But this is the reality we live in. No one will stop sinning completely, even with the truest repentance—and certainly not all at once. There is a difficult tension to live with in this.

But, I think that Spurgeon has understood the balance. The regenerate heart will sin, it may “do the very thing it hates”. But, because of the cross, there is no fear of judicial punishment—only loathsome regret for the sin, which gradually teaches truer and truer repentance.

We move from the fear and hatred of punishment, into grace, which teaches us to fear and hate the sin.

Here’s a sentiment from Charles Spurgeon that I found somehow encouraging. It’s from his book All of Grace, in the chapter dealing with despair in religion.

Remember that the man who truly repents is never satisfied with his own repentance. We can no more repent perfectly than we can live perfectly. However pure our tears, there will always be some dirt in them: there will be something to be repented of even in our best repentance.

Spurgeon argues that being unsatisfied with one’s own repentance is evidence in itself that the repentance is true and honest. I suppose my question then is, does the satisfaction that comes from that create an unsolvable paradox? I dunno, I hope not.

Charles Spurgeon reminds in All of Grace of Faith’s proper place:

“I again remind you that faith is only the channel or aqueduct, and not the fountainhead, and we must not look so much to it as to exalt it above the divine source of all blessing which lies in the grace of God.  Never make a Christ out of your faith, nor think of as if it were the independent source of your salvation. Our life is found in "looking unto Jesus," not in looking to our own faith. By faith all things become possible to us; yet the power is not in the faith, but in the God upon whom faith relies.”

Trusting in faith for salvation is like thanking the car when a good friend gives you a ride somewhere. Sure the car played a crucial roll, but it’s ludicrous to give it any praise.

Charles Spurgeon, in his treaties All of Grace, relates this story to his readers:

A minister called upon a poor woman, intending to give her help; for he knew that she was very poor. With his money in his hand, he knocked at the door; but she did not answer. He concluded she was not at home, and went his way. A little after he met her at the church, and told her that he had remembered her need: "I called at your house, and knocked several times, and I suppose you were not at home, for I had no answer." "At what hour did you call, sir?" "It was about noon." "Oh, dear," she said, "I heard you, sir, and I am so sorry I did not answer; but I thought it was the man calling for the rent."

His point is that we have to understand who is knocking on our door and what it is that he wants. When Jesus comes, it is not to get something from us, but to give something to us.

We miss out on a great deal when we refuse to respond to God thinking that something will be lost when in truth, something is to be given.

I must assume that if this is true (and I believe it is), that I am missing out on a great deal of joy that I would otherwise experience. It’s too bad there’s no way to really know who’s knocking before you open the door.