WHAT IS YOUR LIFE? – Charles Spurgeon
WHAT IS YOUR LIFE?
“For what is your life? It is even a vapor, that appears for a little time, and then vanishes away.” James 4:14.
The Death of a Prince and Its Message
WHEN a prince dies, they toll the great bell of the cathedral so that all the city may hear it and that, for miles around, the tidings may spread. Swift messengers of the press bear the news through the length and breadth of the land, and all men’s ears are made to tingle. A royal death is a national warning! A death in any of our families is a loud call to our own household, a call which I trust we hear. But a death in the Royal Family has a voice to the whole nation. It will be heard, it must be heard! In this great city, the crowds who care not to come to the house of God will, nevertheless, hear of this lamented death, and think of it and speak of it, each man to his fellow. Death is an orator whose solemn periods demand attention, especially when he preaches from the steps of the throne. “The Lord’s voice cries unto the city”—let Believers be quick to hear the call to humiliation, to awakening, and to prayer, that the visitation may be overruled for great and lasting good.
The Impressive Warning of a Sudden Death
A sudden death is an especially impressive warning. If men die of old age, we regard it as coming in the common course of things. But when a young man is suddenly snatched away, then we understand that though the old must die, the young may die, and that no one among us may reckon upon any long day of life, since, in a moment, our sun may go down before it is yet noon. So falls the grass beneath the mower’s scythe! So fades the leaf from the tree! In a moment our strength is turned to weakness and our comeliness into corruption. Then, In accents as plain as they are terrible, the Lord says, “Because I will do this unto you, prepare to meet your God, O Israel!”
Death’s Impartiality and Universality
We have, this week, received fresh proof that death is impartial. As the Arab proverb has it, the black camel stops at every man’s door. Sorrow has entered in at the windows of palaces, and even in the royal chamber there lies one dead. If, therefore, Death is so impartial that he smites down the captains, let not the rank and file hope to escape. Death, which forces entrance to a prince’s bedchamber, will not respect our cottage door. To us, also, in due time, shall be brought the message, “The Master is come and calls for you.” My ear hears a voice crying aloud, “Set your house in order; for you shall die and not live.” Will not you hear it? Will any one of you refuse the voice which speaks from Heaven?
Death’s Unpredictability and the Futility of Procrastination
Death evidently pays no respect to character, age, or hopefulness. A man may addict himself to the service of his country, but his patriotism will not protect him. He may be surrounded with a wall of affection, but this will not screen him. He may have at his command all the comforts of life, and yet life may ooze out before the physician is aware. He may be tenderly loved by an affectionate mother, and his name may be engraved on the heart of the fondest of wives, but death has no regard to the love of women. “It is appointed unto men once to die.” There is no discharge in this war—we shall all march into this fight—and unless the Lord, Himself, shall speedily come and end the present dispensation, we shall, each one, fall upon this battlefield, for the shafts of Death fly everywhere and there is no armor for either back or breast by which his cruel darts may be turned aside. I would to God that all of us retained this Truth of God in our memories. “Lord, make me to know my end and the measure of my days, what it is; that I may know how frail I am.”
The Temptation to Ignore Death
We have a very clear conviction that others will die, but as to ourselves, we put far from us the evil day and care not to dwell upon a subject which smells so unpleasantly of the morgue! Yes, we admit that we shall die, but not so soon as to make it a pressing matter—we imagine that we are not within measurable distance of the tomb. Even the oldest man gives himself a little longer lease on life. And when he has passed his four-score years, we have seen him hugging life with as much tenacity as if he had just commenced it! Brothers and Sisters, in this we are not wise—Death will not spare us because we avoid him. What is there about any one of us that we should fare better than the rest of our fellow men? We are in the same army, marching upon the same field—why should we escape where all others fall?
A Common Fate and the Call for Reflection
Only two of our race have gone into the better land without crossing the dark river of death—Enoch and Elijah—but no one among us will make a third. Now, upon this matter we have nothing to say but what is commonplace, for, garnish them as you may, graves are among the most common of common things. Yet a solemn reflection upon the shortness of life and the certainty of death may prove to be important and even invaluable, if it is allowed to penetrate our hearts and influence our lives.
The Awakening Power of Death
History tells us of Peter Waldo, of Lyons, who was sitting at a banquet as thoughtless and careless as any of the revelers, when suddenly, one at the table bowed his head and died. Waldo was startled into thought and went home to seek his God. He searched the Scriptures and, according to some, became a great helper, if not the second founder of the Waldensian Church, which in the Alpine valleys kept the lamp of the Gospel burning when all around was veiled in night! The whole Church of God was thus strengthened and perpetuated by the hallowed influence of death upon a single mind! I suppose it is also true that Luther, in his younger days, walking with his friend, Alexis, saw him struck to the ground by a flash of lightning and became, from that day on, prepared in heart for that deep work of Grace through which he learned the Doctrine of Justification by Faith—and rose to be the liberator of Europe from Papal bondage!
The Spiritual Health Brought by Reflection on Death
How much, every way, we owe to this weighty subject! Among the earnest, the prayerful, the holy, many must acknowledge that the vaults of death have brought them spiritual health! Men have been helped to live by remembering that they must die—yes, some men knew nothing of the highest form of life till Death awakened them from their deadly slumbers. I hope that God’s Spirit may, this morning, impress many of you with these reflections, and lead you to the Cross of Christ by the way of this memento mori. May a prince’s death awaken many of you to life! He, being dead, now speaks to you! From yonder sunny shores he reminds you of the valley of death which you must shortly traverse.
The Truth in the Text: The Uncertainty of Life
I. We commence with THE TRUTH IN THE TEXT, upon which we have already touched. The text begins by reminding us that we have no foresight—“Whereas you know not what shall be on the morrow.” God has given us memory that we may look backward—and it were well if we used our memories better for remembrance, reflection, and repentance—but God has given us no eyes with which to pry into the future. He unveils the past to our penitence, but He veils the future from our curiosity. Dark days may be near at hand for some of us, but we do not perceive them. Let us be thankful that we do not, for we might multiply our afflictions by the foresight of them—and the prospect of evil to come might cast a gloom over pleasure near at hand. As we may feel a thousand deaths in fearing one, so may we faint under a thousand lashes in dreading a single stroke. It is good, also, that our God conceals from us our earthly joys until the time for their arrival. Great prosperity may await you and a considerable enlargement of your temporal comfort, but you do not know it and it is as well that you should not, for you might be none the better for the prospect.
Life’s Fragility and the Futility of Foresight
Earth’s goods are like birdlime and are fearfully apt to glue us down to things below and prevent our soaring towards Heaven. If, then, we could know all the pleasurable events that may happen to us, we might become more worldly and more earthbound than we are. None of us should desire that this present evil world should have an increased influence over us—we are glad that it should have less and, therefore, we rejoice that its future has such slight power over us because of its being unknown. No, we cannot see far, and those who act as if they could see into coming days behave most foolishly. Hear these people whom James describes—they boast most wretchedly!
The Folly of Future Plans Without Certainty
They will go into the city—they are sure they will—what is to hinder them? “Today or tomorrow we will go into such a city”—they have plenty of time and can make a selection according to their pleasure—they can go where they like and when they like. They see themselves, with prophetic glance, entering in at the city gate, and they are fully assured that they shall “continue there a year.” Of course, a year is a small matter—if they please, they will stay longer. They allot themselves a lease for three, seven, fourteen, or twenty-one years, at discretion—at least they talk as if they could do so.
Living in the Present with Urgency
They are going into the city to “buy and sell.” They are sure of that, too. Of course, they will not be laid up with sickness! They do not fear that accident or disease will keep them away from market, or hinder the active transacting of their business. No, they are going to buy and sell, and such is their confidence in their own superior abilities that they are sure to make a profit—the markets cannot fall below the price which they have fixed in their own minds—neither will they make bad debts, nor incur other losses, for they have decided that they will “get gain.” Up to now they have been self-made men and they mean to go on making themselves until they put the finishing stroke by adding a few more thousands. They have visions of going on to fortune. Ah, you prophets, you are going to your graves! This is a sure oracle. The tomb will be your only patrimony and the shroud your sole possession! Let none of us talk of what we resolve to do at some future date. Look well to the present, for that is all the time we can be sure of—and there may be little enough of that.
The Imprecation of Procrastination
“Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave, where you go.” Thus said the wise man. Let wise men take heed to his counsel. The Apostle emphasizes the folly of this supposed foresight by telling us that we cannot even reckon upon another day. You have come close up to the end of March, but if you reckon upon what you will do upon the first of April, you may find, by the event, that you are a fool! You may get to the last day of the year, but if you reckon on a new year, you may be giving new proof of your ignorance! Even in the morning we cannot make sure of the eventide, nor in the evening can we reckon upon the morning.
The Fleeting Nature of Life
James puts the matter strongly when he asks—“What is your life?” You do not know what is going to happen on the morrow, for you do not know your own life. What is it? The text divides itself into an emphatic question, “What is your life?” And an instructive answer—“It is even a vapor, that appears for a little time, and then vanishes away.” First, I say, we have, here, an emphatic question. He asks, “What is your life?” For solidity, for stability, what is it? What is there in it? Is it not composed of such stuff as dreams are made of? The breath in your nostrils is not more unsubstantial than is your life.
Life’s Vaporous Quality
There, breathe it out! On such a morning as this, you see your breath, but it is only in your sight for a moment and then it vanishes away. Your own breath is a fair picture of the flimsy, airy thing which men call life. What is your life? What is it for continuance? Some things last for centuries—but what is your life? Even garments bear some little wear and tear, but what is your life? A delicate texture—no cobweb is a tenth as frail. It will fail before a touch, a breath! Justinian, an emperor of Rome, died by going into a room which had been newly painted! Adrian, a pope, was strangled by a fly! A consul struck his foot against his own threshold and his foot mortified, so that he died thereby! There are a thousand gates to death and, though some seem to be narrow wickets, many souls have passed through them! Men have been choked by a grape seed; killed by a tile falling from the roof of a house; poisoned by a drop; carried off by a whiff of foul air. I know not what there is that is too little to slay the greatest king! It is a marvel that man lives at all!
The Vanity of Human Life
So unstable is our life that the Apostle says, What is it? So frail, so fragile is it, that he does not call it a flower of the field, or the snuff of a candle, but asks, What is our life? It is as if he had said—Is it anything? Is it not a near approach to nothing? Have you ever noticed how David answers this question in the 39th Psalm? He says in the 5th verse of that Psalm that man is vanity. What is vanity? It is nothing in reality! It is merely the presence of something. It is an idle dream, an empty conceit, a delusion, a make-believe! Such is man. But David says more than that—he declares that every man is vanity. Princes, kings, philosophers, the strongest, the healthiest, the ablest, the most virtuous—every man is vanity! Among the millions of mankind, none rises above this dreary state of nothingness!
Life as Vanity, Even at Its Best
He says more than that. He writes—every man at his best state is vanity—when he is in the prime and glory of his life, when he is most healthy and vigorous, when his eyes are clearest and his muscles are firmest, he is still no better than sheer vanity! David goes even further, for he thus speaks—“Every man at his best state is altogether vanity.” That is, he is nothing but vanity, there is nothing more enduring about him. He is gone with a puff! He spends his years as a tale that is told. Do not overlook one more emphatic word which David sets in the forefront of the sentence, “Verily,” as if he were quite sure of it and could not tolerate a question upon the subject—“Verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity.”
Job’s Reflection on the Swift Passing of Life
Have you ever observed how Job, when he speaks of our life, sets us a sign in each of the three elements whereon and wherein we dwell? See his ninth chapter, at the 25th verse. He says, “My days are swifter than a runner.” Here is an emblem upon the land. Oriental kings employed swift-footed runners and horses and camels—and these, to the Oriental imagination, were the very essence of speed. Even we, before the days of electricity, knew of nothing faster than the royal mail! Job, therefore, well says, “My days are swifter than a runner.”
The Swiftness of Life: A Comparison to Ships and Eagles
Then he bids us look to sea, for he says, “They are passed away as the swift ships.” Ships which are built for speed seem to fly as on wings when they spread their sails to a favoring wind. We ought not to view ships at sea without remembering the brevity of our days. But lest we should still forget, the Patriarch further likens his days to “the eagle that hastens to the prey.” As the vulture spies, from a distance, the carcass of a camel and descends upon it with hasty swoop, so our life hastens to descend. Thus earth, sea, and air all remind us of the speed at which life flies towards its end!
Conclusion: Facing the Shortness and Uncertainty of Life
St. Augustine used to say he did not know whether to call it a dying life or a living death—and I leave you to choose between those two expressions. This is certainly a dying life—its march is marked by graves. Nothing but a continuous miracle keeps any one of us from the sepulcher. Were Omnipotence to stay its power but for a moment, earth would return to earth and ashes to ashes. It is a dying life—and equally true is it that it is a living death. We are always dying. Every beating pulse we count leaves the number less. The more years we count in our life, the fewer remain in which we shall behold the light of day.