Oh, that I may know him in the
fellowship of his sufferings, in the power of his resurrection,
being made conformable unto his death. That's just reasonable,
isn't it? Just reasonable. Just reasonable
that I should spend my life in the zealous, never fainting,
all-consuming pursuit of knowing Jesus Christ who loved me and
gave himself for me. But I often find myself consumed
with other things rather than with him. The zeal which I sometimes
have burning in my heart for him, I often find languishing
into near death. But I find that that's the case
with God's people generally. And that certainly is the case
in the picture before us in the Song of Solomon, chapter 5, beginning
at verse 2. Here is a sad but common, common
experience for all believers. Our text sets before us a picture
of Christ's church, his beloved bride, his redeemed spouse, one
whom he has bought and brought to himself. But here she is in
her most lamentable condition. We've been reading this song
of Solomon and throughout the song of Solomon in most places,
the bride speaks to Christ. Up until now, we've been seeing
her speaking to the Lord Jesus, but now she is reduced to speaking
about him. because he's hidden himself.
He's withdrawn himself because of her neglect and her indifference
toward him. Hard as it is to imagine, there
is within each of us a terrible tendency, a horrible inclination
to become neglectful, indifferent, and lukewarm to the Lord Jesus
Christ, our Savior. This common sinful tendency of
our nature We will be wise to mark, ever beware of it, and
pray for grace from God to avoid it. Prone to wonder, Lord, I
feel it. Prone to leave the God I love. Here's my heart. Oh, take and
seal it. Seal it for thy courts above. Now, let's look at this text
line by line. And let me see if I can stir
up our hearts to seek our Savior one more time. Here's a very
common saying. The text opens with these words,
I sleep. You read Matthew 25 and you read
about the 10 virgins, the wise and the foolish. And the saddest
part of that story is that commonly you find the wise virgins sleeping
with the foolish. The wise virgins have the oil
of grace. They have the Spirit of God.
They're born of God's Spirit. But in this flesh, this flesh
that's so weak, they find themselves often, just like the foolish,
sleeping when they ought to be watchful and awake. The wise
virgins often have to confess, as does the virgin daughter of
Christ here, the child of God, the bride of our Redeemer. I
sleep far too often. This is the bad effect which
comes with great privileges upon our sinful hearts. There is not
one of us who does not horribly take for granted the greatest
privileges and blessings and opportunities we have. Not one
of us. There's no man living who has
a loving, faithful wife who does not take her for granted. There
is no woman living who has a devoted, loving husband who doesn't take
him for granted. There are no parents who have
faithful children or children who have faithful parents who
do not take them for granted. And there's no such thing as
a believer in this world, washed in the blood of Christ, robed
in His righteousness, sanctified by His Spirit, saved by His grace,
kept by His power in infallible security, kept under God. who does not take for granted
that blessed grace, that precious blood, that dear redeemer. No such thing. I sleep. We indulge
ourselves in carnal ease and security. Our hearts become cold,
negligent, indifferent. The word of God becomes to us
a book. Our religion often becomes just
a routine. Our devotion, likewishes, lifeless. Our service to our Redeemer becomes
a drudgery. Worship becomes just a formality. I sleep. Sometimes this is the
condition of just an individual. It is often mine. I spend my
life studying, writing, preaching from this book. You'd think,
oh, if there's any place on this earth where a fella could find
constant inspiration for constant devotion and constant excitement
and constant zeal, it's there. But I spend most of my time having
to confess I sleep. Lord, God, come stir my soul
one more time. I sleep. But here's a hopeful
sign. My heart awakened. And you'll
notice that when this statement is made, there's not even the
hint of a doubt concerning it. I sleep. I acknowledge my sin. I acknowledge my lethargy. I
acknowledge my indifference. I acknowledge my neglect. I acknowledge
the callousness, the base ingratitude of my heart. But my soul waketh. My heart waketh. It is a hopeful
sign that there is grace in the heart when the heart struggles
against this sleep, this horrible, slothful indifference. You see,
ours is not the sleep of death. but rather the sleep of neglect. It is not the sleep of death,
but the sleep of weariness. It is not the sleep of death,
but the sleep of indifference. The believer yet struggles in
his soul against that horrid indifference that he finds in
himself. So that we say with regard to
our Lord Jesus Christ, even as the apostle did concerning God's
law, with regard to our neglect toward Him, what I hate, that
I do. The will is present with me.
Oh, for a closer walk with God. Oh, to walk with Christ. Incessantly, in the sweet, blessed
smile of his face, to walk with him, constantly with my face
beaming toward him. The will is present with me.
But how to perform that which is good, I cannot find. That's just fact. That's just
fact. And I refuse to pretend. I refuse to put on a show. I
refuse to act like it's not so. I'm telling you what I experience
because I know good and well that's what you experience. I
know good and well that's what you experience. We're in this
thing together. We're in this thing called this
veil of tears, this body of flesh, this sinful nature, and we constantly
have this proneness toward indifference. But blessed be God, there is
a warfare in my soul against it. And I delight in Christ after
the inward man. I want him. I acknowledge, I
sleep. But I'm confident of this. I'm
his, for he has wakened my soul, my heart's alive to God. Now
thirdly, look at this very loving, tender call. I sleep, but my
heart wakes, and here's what keeps my heart awake. It is the
voice of my beloved. All does not go, though my heart
sleeps so foolishly, yet Christ is still my beloved. She does
not say it is the voice of him who looks upon me as his beloved,
though that's true. But in this horrible state of
indifference, she still has her hope fixed, not in herself, but
in him. And she says, it's the voice
of my beloved. Here I am asleep, but my heart
wakes. It wakes because it's the voice
of my beloved knocking at the door. Him whom I love. Self-righteous, legalist, who
promote the idea that somehow assurance is to be found in our
inward devotion, in our godliness, in our warmth toward Christ,
have a great difficulty here. Great difficulty here. How can
she say, this is my beloved, when she's so indifferent? Have
you ever found yourself indifferent to a child whom you know you
dearly love for whatever reason? Indifferent to your husband whom
you know you dearly love? Indifferent to your wife whom
you know you dearly love? This is exactly the truth here.
While there is this coldness and this indifference this horrible
lethargy of soul Yet he is the one whom I most truly love. He's my beloved. My love for
him is fickle, so shameful, so unworthy of him, but love him,
yes, I do. And what's more, I hear his voice
and I still know his voice. I hear his voice and I still
know his voice. Christ tenderly knocks to awaken
us to come and open to him. Hold your hand here and turn
to Revelation 3. Revelation chapter 3, this text can bear with a
little explanation in this day of religious
ignorance. You've seen pictures, these silly
idolatrous pictures, supposed to be pictures of Jesus. Here's
this sort of effeminate looking thing that looks sort of like
a man, but long hair and, you know, got a complexion smooth
as a baby's bottom, no blemish at all, and doesn't look too
much like a man, but a little like a man. Standing outside
a door, holding a lantern, knocking. And there's no lock on the outside,
no knob to open up. And it's supposed to be a picture
of Jesus knocking at the sinner's heart's door for entrance. Now
that's such foolishness. Here he is who is the light of
the world holding a lantern. The omnipotent God knocking for
entrance into your heart as though he could not come in. Now you
listen carefully to me. With regard to the sinner, I
recognize you must open to him. But I'm telling you, you will
never open to Him until He, with the hand of omnipotent grace,
knocks the door down of your heart, bolt and bar, and sets
Himself on His throne in your heart. But here in Revelation
3 in verse 20, We have a picture and a word given not to the unbelieving,
not to the unregenerate, but rather to the believer, indeed
to the local church. Here in Revelation 3 20, the
Lord Jesus speaks to Grace Baptist Church, Danville, Kentucky. This
is what he says. Behold, I stand at the door and
knock. If any man will hear my voice,
that's how he knocks, by his word. open the door. Listen now, if anybody in here,
anybody in here, hears him speak now by his word, opens the door,
this is what he says, I will come in to him and sup with him
and he How does he speak? By his word, by his spirit, by
his providence, he speaks. And as he speaks, he says, now
you open to me. And if you open to me, I'll come
in and suck with you. I'll sit down with you. And if
she opens to me, I'll sit down with her, suck with her. But
you must open to me. He not only knocks for entrance,
but our beloved Redeemer graciously calls us, wooing us to himself. He doesn't just say, now, I'm
knocking you open to me and I'll come in. He gives us reason to
come to him. Whose voice is it? It's the voice
of my beloved that knocketh. There is a persistency to this
thing. It's not just that he knocks and leaves, but he knocks
and knocks and knocks and knocks and knocks. It's the voice of
my beloved knocking. Who is he calling? He's calling
me. And this guy calls me my sister,
my love, my dove, my undefiled. He's calling me. Now listen again.
What does he call for? Open to me. Open to me. I think it's entirely accurate
to use this illustration. A young man and his wife just
married, getting accustomed to each other. love each other dearly,
perhaps still on their honeymoon. And they have a little spat.
And she goes in the other room and locks the door. And he realizes
that he's the one responsible for her and not her for him. He realizes the relationship
and the family is in his hands, not in hers. And though the spat's
her fault, He goes and leans against the door and he says,
honey, come on, open the door. Open the door. We got too much
to lose here. Open the door. That's the picture. He knocks to me. He calls for
me to open to him. Why? He says, open to me now
for my head is filled with dew and my locks with the drops of
the night. not just any dew, not just any
drops, not just any night. I've been out now in Gethsemane's trouble and my
head is filled with the dew of my own blood mixed with the dew
of heaven dropping from the throne of God. I've been to Calvary,
my head is pierced with thorns and mingled in the dark night
of my affliction wherewith my father afflicted me in his fierce
anger when I was made to be sin for you. Now, open to me because
I've been redeeming you. Open to me. I've been working
for you. Open to me, my sister, my spouse. I have ruled this world for you. Open to me. Look at verse three. Here is our horrid ingratitude.
I put off my coat. How shall I put it on? I've washed
my feet. How shall I defile them? I'm at ease. Resting. Everything's all right. My beloved
speaks. In whose righteousness alone
I'm in whose blood alone I'm washed neatly. But don't bother
me right now. I got too many other things to
concern me. I'm at ease now in this relationship. I'm at ease now with you. Everything's
all right. I know everything's well between
you and me. I put off my shoes. Don't bother
me now. I'm resting here in the carnal
ease of that blessed security of grace which I have made to
be a bed of carnal ease. I'm here now consumed, as Buddy
read in the office a little bit ago, with the care of this world. Don't bother me now. But our
Lord Jesus, oh, how gracious He is. His love cannot be quenched. He's long-suffering, patient,
and gracious to his people, even in our most sinful rejection
and denial of him. Here's a picture of his unfailing,
persevering, effectual grace. Look at it. My beloved put in
his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels moved for him.
It lends us most tender terms that can be used. Talks about
moving of the bowels, the moving of our affections, the moving
of our hearts. How does it happen? In those
old Eastern homes, I'm told, now I'm getting a little old.
Some of you might think that I can remember these things.
I just read about them. They built houses and they had doors
and they had locks. But the master of the house built
his house in such a way that he didn't have to have a key
to get in. He just stick his hand in the hole of the door
and he knew where the lock was. And he flipped the tumblers and
he opened the door and come on in. And this is how she pictures
us. He calls and I said, don't bother
me now. Now, I love you, honey, but I
don't want to be disturbed right now. And he slips his hand right
into our hearts. and opens the door and steps
in and moves our hearts for him. Oh, blessed, blessed grace. Blessed, blessed Savior. Blessed, blessed God is he who
will not let us leave him. I rejoice to know that Christ
will not leave us and he will never let us quite leave him. Now then, here is a loving chastisement. He puts his hand into the heart
and he moves our hearts toward him. And then we read in verse
seven, or verse five rather, I rose up to open to my beloved.
I rose up, boy, I'm so sorry. I wish I had not been so negligent.
Oh, my Lord, my master, my beloved. I wish I had hearkened to your
voice in the beginning. I rose up to open to him. And
when I took hold of the doorknob to open to him, all his sweet
murder, his grace, his goodness, his mercy, his love. Oh, It covered
my hands, my fingers dropped with the sweet smelling myrrh.
Verse six, I opened to my beloved, but my beloved had withdrawn
himself and was gone. The fact is, when we neglect
him, we are indifferent to him. We refuse to hear him, we refuse
to follow him. The Lord Jesus graciously hides
himself from us as he stirs up our hearts to seek him. Why does
he withdraw himself? He withdraws himself to cause
us to run after him. He hides Himself to cause us
to seek Him. He causes us by His grace to
be aroused to seek Him, but He hides His face. He secludes Himself,
watching over us all the time, but insisting that we must seek
Him. He will be found only when we
want Him and we seek Him. My heart, my soul failed when
He spoke. That can be taken two ways. My
soul failed because I despised and neglected the opportunity.
Or my soul failed its sake within me. I sought him, but I could
not find him. I called him, but he gave me
no answer. The watchman. Watchman. That's what I am. Are you here seeking him? Are
you here endeavoring to find him, to worship him? The watchman
goes about the city. He found me. Found me by the
word. And the word he spoke pierced
my soul. They smote me. That's what happens
when you come and the word of God pierces your heart. It'll
smite you every time. It exposes your sin. It exposes
your guilt. It exposes your indifference.
It exposes your neglect. People go to church these days,
they want to be pumped up and made to feel good. It's the duty,
the responsibility, the work of the watchman to smite you
with the word, ever to expose your sin, ever to make you aware
that in yourself you're nothing and Christ is everything. You
must have him. They wounded me. It's what a
sword does. It wounds. The keepers of the
walls, that's the watchman, that's the preacher, that's the gospel
pastor. They took away my veil from me. I walked about with
that veil and the keepers of the wall just stripped it off.
And here I stand now before the word of God and before my master,
naked and exposed in all my corruption, in all my indifference, in all
my neglect, Now then, here's one last hope. I charge you,
oh daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you, my brothers, my sisters
in Christ, I charge you, every one of you, every one of you,
if you find my beloved, tell him, oh tell him, I'm sick of
love. Tell him I repent of my neglect. Tell him I confess my sin. Tell him I lament having driven
him from my breast. Tell him I wait for him. Tell him I want him. As we make
preparations for our conference, I've been praying and urging
you to pray that God will cause it to be a time of refreshing
in his presence. that he would visit again his
vine and cause it to flourish, that he would cause his word
to go forth with power, that our Redeemer will one more time
visit us in grace, make himself known. And I have a word for
you who yet believe not. When Christ calls, when Christ
calls, listen to me now, when Christ calls, open to him. Today, if you will hear his voice,
harden not your heart. I have a word for you who enjoy
the blessed fellowship of Christ. Cherish it. Grieve not the Holy
Spirit of God, whereby you're sealed into the day of redemption.
And I have this word for you who are the Lord's children.
but you have, by your own neglect, lost the blessedness of fellowship
with Christ. Go back to the cross. As you
have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in him. Seek
him, confessing your sin, your guilt, confessing your utter
reliance upon him, and trust him still. though he has withdrawn
himself and hides himself. Although my house be not so with
God, yet he hath made with me an everlasting covenant, ordered
in all things and sure. This is all my salvation and
all my desire, though he make it not to grow. He's my beloved,
and I'm going to seek him. I'm going to seek him. Return,
O son of God, return. Come knock again upon my door. Dear Savior, my beloved, return. Possess me and depart no more. Amen.