1 Thessalonians 5:19

QUENCHING THE SPIRIT

‘Quench not the Spirit.’

1 Thessalonians 5:19

Look where we find this injunction. It is in the midst of other injunctions. We are to rejoice evermore. We are to pray without ceasing. We are in everything to give thanks. We are not to despise prophesyings. And we are not to quench the Spirit. Now we may rest assured that the Apostle Paul was not the man to spend his time and energy in warning men against impossible sins.

Let us consider the various ways in which the Spirit may be quenched.

I. The most obvious and certain way to extinguish fire is by pouring water on it, and the most direct way of quenching the Spirit is the commission of sin, and determined resistance to holy influences. Every unholy action, word, purpose, every evil thought encouraged, is like water poured on fire, for these are not so opposed the one to the other as sin to the nature of Him Who is called the Holy Spirit.

II. The Spirit may also be quenched by resistance.—You have been kept for a time from a sin by a sense of its folly, wickedness, and danger. But you persisted in taking your own course. In doing so you deliberately thrust away the Friend Who sought to restrain you from doing yourself injury. By this direct opposition you were quenching the Spirit. But He has not forsaken you, for He is slow to anger and plenteous in mercy.

III. The Spirit may be quenched by worldliness.—Without any direct intention to extinguish a fire, one thing after another may be heaped upon it until it goes out. So the Spirit may be quenched not only by direct opposition, but by worldliness of mind. The thoughts may be so absorbed by things seen and temporal as to leave no time nor inclination to attend to the things which are unseen and eternal.

Illustration

‘There is something worse than pain, and that is the absence of pain. When a man lying on his bed is racked in agony we pity, and we stand by his side, and take his hand, and say, “We hope you may have strength to be patient.” It is far more pitiable next morning when we come, and he says, “This morning, suddenly the pain disappeared, and I am now quite well.” Quite well; with the sunken circle beneath the eye, and death’s pale ensigns upon his cheek. That is the most pitiable of all. Outside the door, when the door is closed upon him, we look at the physician, and he shakes his head. “Yes; mortification has set in.” We thought so. It was the beginning of the end. The absence of religions conviction is the most awful thing in human history. It is the insensibility of the soul. We are capable—take this in, and carry it away with you now—capable of spiritual suicide. It is given to us to refuse the Spirit of God, or to yield to it.’