Jeremiah 18:12

There is no hope.

Hope, yet no hope-No hope, yet hope

There are two phases in spiritual life which well illustrate the deceitfulness of the heart. The first is that described in my first text (Isaiah 57:10), in which the man, though wearied in his many attempts, is not and cannot be convinced of the hopelessness of self-salvation, but still clings to the delusion that he shall be able somehow, he knows not how, to deliver himself from ruin. When you shall have hunted the man out of this, you will then meet with a new difficulty, which is described in the second text. Finding there is no hope in himself, the man draws the unwarrantable conclusion that there is no hope for him in God; and, as once you had to battle with his self-confidence, now you have to wrestle with his despair. It is self-righteousness in both cases. In the one ease it is the soul content with self-righteousness; in the second place it is man sullenly preferring to perish rather than receive the righteousness of Christ.

I. Considering the first text, we have to speak of a hope which is no hope. “Thou art wearied in the greatness of thy way; yet saidst thou not, There is no hope: thou hast found the life of thine hand; therefore thou wast not grieved.” This well pictures the pursuit of men after satisfaction in earthly things. They will hunt the purlieus of wealth, they will travel the pathways of fame, they will dig into the mines of knowledge, they will exhaust themselves in the deceitful delights of sin, and, finding them all to be vanity and emptiness, they will become sore perplexed and disappointed; but they will still continue their fruitless search. Carnal minds with all their might earth’s vanities pursue, and when they are by ceremonies. If you shall addict yourself to the fullest ceremonial, if you should be obedient to it in all its jots and tittles, keeping its fast days and its feast days, its vigils and matins and vespers, bowing down before its priesthood, its altars, and its millinery, giving up your reason, and binding yourself in the fetters of superstition; after you have done all this, you will find an emptiness and a vexation of spirit as the only result. It is only grace that can enable us to follow Luther’s example, who, after going up and down Pilate’s staircase on his knees, muttering so many Ave Marias and Paternosters, called to mind that old text, “Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God,” and springing up from his knees forsook once and forever all dependence upon outward formalities, and quitted the cloistered cell and all its austerities to live the life of a believer, knowing that by the works of the law there shall no flesh living be justified.

2. A great mass of people, even though they reject priestcraft, make themselves priests, and rely upon their good works. A poor and wretched man dreamed that he was counting out gold. There it stood upon the table before him in great bags, and, as he untied string after string, he found himself wealthy beyond a Croesus’ treasures. He was lying upon a bed of straw in the midst of filth and squalor, a mass of rags and wretchedness, but he dreamed of riches. A charitable friend who had brought him help stood at the sleeper’s side and said, “I have brought you help, for I know your urgent need.” Now the man was in a deep sleep, and the voice mingled with his dream as though it were part of it: he replied, therefore, with scornful indignation, “Get ye gone, I need no miserable charity from you; I am possessor of heaps of gold. Can you not see them? I will open a bag and pour out a heap that shall glitter before your eyes.” Thus foolishly he talked on, babbling of a treasure, which existed only in his dream, till he who came to help him accepted his repulse and departed mournfully. When the man awakened he had no comfort from his dream, but found that he had been duped by it into rejecting his only friend. Such is the position of every person who is hoping to be saved by his good works. You have no good works except in your dream.

3. Many persons are looking for salvation to another form of self-deception, namely, the way of repentance and reformation. It is thought by some that if they pray a certain number of prayers, and repent up to a certain amount, they will then be saved as the result of their praying and repenting. This, again, is another way of winning salvation which is not spoken of in Scripture. This is a way by which neither law nor Gospel receive honour. To repent is a Christian’s duty, but to hope for salvation by virtue Of that alone is a delusion of the most fearful kind. Repentance is a part of salvation, and when Christ saves us He saves us by making us repent, but repentance does not save; it is the work of God, and the work of God alone. Now wherefore dost thou weary thyself in this way also? for surely in it “there is no hope.”

4. Until thou art clean separate from all consciousness of hope in thyself, there no hope that the Gospel will ever be any power to thee; but when thou shalt throw up thy hands like a drowning man, feeling, “It is all over with me! I am lost, lost, unless a stronger than I shall interpose.” Oh, sinner, then there is hope for you.

II. We now turn to the second text. Here we have no hope--and yet hope. When the sinner has at last been driven by stress of weather from the roadstead of his own confidence, then he flies to the dreary harbour of despair. As if there were nobody in the world but himself, and as if he were to measure God’s power and God’s grace by his own merit and power. Hopelessness in self is what we want to bring you to, but hopelessness in itself, and especially in connection with God, would be a sin from which we would urge you to escape. If you are sitting down in despair, I want to speak to you first of the God of hope. His name is God, that is good. He delighteth in mercy: it is His soul’s highest joy to clasp His Ephraims to His bosom. But you say, Wherewithal shall I come before the Most High God? I have sinned, and what shall I bring as a recompense? If I had a mint of merits, if I had godly impressions, if I had high moral excellence, I would come with that to God, and hope to obtain a hearing.” But hearken, sinner, dost thou not know the name of the Second Person in the Trinity? It is Jesus Christ, the Son. Now, if thou wantest merit, has not He enough of it? Oh, sinner, if thou hast no merit, thou needest not wish for any. Take Christ in thy hand, for He is made of God unto thee, wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption; and all this for every, soul of Adam born who trusts in Him alone. But I hear you complaining again, “Oh, but I have not the power to repent. You have told me this, and I cannot believe: I cannot soften my heart; I cannot do anything; I am so powerless. You have been teaching me that.” I know I have; but there is another Person in the Trinity, and what is His name? It is the Holy Spirit. And do you not know that the Holy Spirit helpeth our infirmity? A great divine has said--and I think there is some truth in it--that a very great number of souls are destroyed through the fear that they cannot be saved. I think it is very likely. If some of you really thought that Christ could save you, if you felt a hope that you might yet be numbered with His people, you would say, “I will forsake my sins, I will leave my present evil way, and I will fly unto the strong for strength.” In the first place, would it not be wise, even if there were only a “peradventure,” to go to Christ, and trust Him on the strength of that? The King of Nineveh had no Gospel message; he had simply the law preached by Jonah, and that very shortly and sternly. Jonah’s message was, “Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown”; but the King of Nineveh said, “Who can tell?” Surely if but on the presumption of “Who can tell?” the men of Nineveh went and did find mercy, you will be inexcusable if you do not act upon the same, having much more than that to be your comfort. Go, sinner, to the Cross, for who can tell? But, in the next place, you have had many clear and positive examples. In reading Scripture through you find that many have been to Christ, and that there never was one cast out yet. Moreover, you have comfortable promises in the Word of God. “Your hearts shall live that seek Him.” If you do seek Him your heart shall live. Leap on the back of that promise, and let it bear thee, as the Samaritan’s beast bore the dying man, to an inn where thou mayest rest--I mean to Christ--where thou mayest have confidence. “Whosoever calleth upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.” Now you do call upon His name. There are many others: they have been quoted in your ears till you know them by heart. “Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely”; and you know that precious one, “Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (C. H. Spurgeon.)

Spiritual desperation

One instance of this is related by a well-known religious writer. He says: “A zealous minister went to the house of an aged respectable man, a man who bore an unstained character, and there addressing him and his family, he told simply of the salvation that is in Christ, and urged those who listened to a hearty acceptance of it. The minister finished what he had to say, and when he left the house, his friend accompanied him; and when they were alone together said something like this: Spend your time and strength upon the young; labour to bring them to Jesus; it is too late for such as me. I know, he said, that I have never been a Christian. I fully believe that when I die I shall go down to perdition.”

I. Its causes.

1. One is the judgments of God, especially those severer dispensations with which the Almighty sometimes visits us. Their real significance, I need hardly say, is that our heavenly Father still loves us and cares for us--that He has not forgotten us, nor given us over to destruction--that He still thinks there is good in us, and a chance for us; and that He is bound by loud and louder calls to warn us back from ruin, and by heavier and heavier blows, if necessary, to drive us from the perilous paths in which we tread. Nevertheless, with the perversity of a chastised child, we put upon them precisely the opposite construction.

2. The discovery of one’s sinfulness, and added to it the realisation of the jeopardy in which it places the soul, will often bring on a fit of hopelessness. That was the case with Judas. The author of the “Pilgrim’s Progress” has testified to a similar experience. When conscience had turned the light upon his life, and sharply reproved him for it, says Bunyan, “I had no sooner thus conceived, in my mind, but suddenly this conclusion was fastened on my spirit that I had been a great and grievous sinner, and that now it was too late for me to look after heaven, for Christ would not forgive me, nor pardon my transgression.”

3. Not only does the discovery of our sins produce this effect, but the same is also apt to follow upon long and unsuccessful conflict with them. For instance, if a man has struggled a great while with some besetting fault, with an appetite that has tyrannised over him--like that for strong drink, to give a common example, or with some passion, like a hasty temper or an uncontrollable tongue--if it seems to him that he has never conquered it, and never can, then there begins to spread over his soul that dark cloud of despair our text represents.

4. Finally, this feeling of despair may be sometimes accounted for by supposing it to be simply a satanic suggestion. Dante saw over the portals of hell this terrible sentence, “All hope abandon ye who enter here.” It is the devil’s trick, his masterpiece of malice and cunning, to copy that inscription and trace it on the hearts of men--All hope abandon.

II. The progress that this disorder of the soul makes when left to run an unchecked course.

1. The first stage of it is misery. It must be. There is a very dramatic scene in the life of Bonaparte, depicted by Guizot. It is the moment when “on that solitary road (to Paris) at the dead of night, the grand empire, founded and sustained by the incomparable genius and commanding will of one man alone, had crumbled to pieces, even in the opinion of him who had raised it.” It is the moment when the officers announce to the great General that his capital is evacuated, and the enemy at its gates; and he realises that nothing is left for him to do but abdicate. The agony that pierced that dauntless soul who can paint! Napoleon, it is said, “let himself fall by the roadside, holding his head in his hands and hiding his face.” The onlookers stood by, silently contemplating him with heartfelt sorrow, unable to utter a single word. But oh! what is the fall of a kingdom to any monarch--what is his despair, what can it be compared to the anguish which must seize upon one, when the full conviction rushes over him that he is really doomed--that no chance is left him to avert damnation--when he must answer in his heart, There is no hope!

2. The second stage of progress is when insensibility sets in. You know that some diseases occasion excruciating pain at the start. Then after a while all disagreeable sensations cease. The patient has got “past feeling.” Well, so it is with the soul when attacked by spiritual desperation. From great suffering at the outset it is liable to pass on into a state of numbness and indifference. It is a condition worse and more alarming than the first. The individual I was alluding to a moment since is an instance in point. I mean the one who begged his clergyman not to waste time upon him, because he had become persuaded that he was predestined to destruction. I did not quote to you then all his conversation upon this subject. Let me give it more in detail now. He said, “I fully believe that when I die I shall go down to perdition. But somehow I do not care. I know perfectly all you can say, but I feel it no more than a stone.”

3. The third and last stage is when one arrives at recklessness. That was the stage reached by those Jews who spoke our text. They said there is no hope. Then they added, “But we will walk after our own devices,” etc. They sinned yet more and more, until Nebuchadnezzar came and carried them away captive. On the deck of a sinking ship, when rescue is impossible, and the end of all is nigh at hand, a curious scene, it is said, may often be witnessed. Here is a group weeping over their impending fate; there is another knot contemplating with utter apathy a watery grave; and yonder, is the strangest sight of all--men in the very frenzy of despair, cursing and swearing with their latest breath, and preparing, with wine cup in hand, and senses steeped in intoxication, to go to their last account. Most singular and dreadful influence this latter, which unavoidable physical danger exercises over the minds of men. But it is no more singular or dreadful than the influence of spiritual hopelessness at times over the soul. The more terrible the doom hanging over it, the more mad does the soul become to sink itself to lower and ever lower abysses of guilt and shame.

III. Is there any foundation in fact for spiritual desperation? Is there any truth in the feeling, there is no hope? No. It is not true of any living soul that there is no hope for it. I was reading the other day of an accident that befell an innkeeper of the Grindelwald. He “fell into a deep crevasse in the upper glacier which flows into that beautiful valley. Happening to fall gradually from ledge to ledge, he reached the bottom in a state of insensibility, but not seriously injured.” What would you say of that man? Well, you would say of him, if you understood what it was to fall into a crevasse, that it was all over with him--that there was before him only a lingering death. In fact, the man himself was at first, when he returned to consciousness of the same opinion. But no, the event proves you both mistaken. When he awoke from his stupor he found himself in an ice cavern, with a stream flowing through an arch at its extremity. Following the course of this stream along a narrow tunnel, which was in some places so low in the roof that he could scarcely squeeze himself through on his hands and knees, he came out at last at the end of the glacier into the open air.” So we see a man fallen into the crevasse of terrible sins. There he lies, spiritually insensible, at the bottom of the awful abyss of iniquity into which, by careless walking, he has slipped at last. You think there is no help for him, no opportunity or place of repentance and restoration left. You dare to say there is no hope. And in his troubled dreams, mayhap (for sinners dream), the poor unfortunate himself repeats your words, no hope. But it is false. A chance for even him still remains. The fallen sinner may yet wake from his stupor, and like that innkeeper of the Grindelwald, creep out on hands and knees into the open air and sunlight of God’s forgiveness and eternal love. Once, it is said, the servants of Richelieu refused to obey his dictates. “Our Father,” they pleaded, “it is useless, we shall but fail.” The great Cardinal drew himself up, fixed upon them his piercing eye, and in a tone that left no place for further parley, replied, “Fall! there’s no such word!” And when I see anyone today, a servant of the living God, perhaps afflicted, conscience-stricken, baffled, and mocked by whisperings of the Evil One, stand up and say there is no hope, I must despair, I hear a voice, loud as the wail of the dying Christ, ring out through the darkness from Calvary and its blood-stained cross, Despair! there’s no such word!” (G. H. Chadwell.)

The sin, danger, and unreasonableness of despair

I. To despair of God’s mercy is sinful.

1. The ancient divines were accustomed to call despair one of the seven deadly sins It well deserves this character. It is directly contrary to the will of God. He, we are told, taketh pleasure in them that fear Him, and hope in His mercy. He must, therefore, be displeased with them that refuse to do this. It is also a great insult to the character of God. It calls in question the truth of His word; nay, it gives Him the lie; for He has told us that whosoever cometh to Him He will in no wise cast out. It calls in question, or rather denies the greatness of His mercy. It also limits the power of God. He has said, Is anything too hard for Me? But despair says, It is impossible that He should renew my heart, subdue my will, and make me fit for heaven.

2. Despair is the cause or parent of many other sins. As hope leads all who entertain it to endeavour to purify themselves, even as Christ is pure, so despair leads all under its influence to wander farther and farther from God, and plunge without restraint into every kind of wickedness.

II. Despair of God’s mercy is dangerous. When a man gives himself up to this sin, he does, as it were, give himself up to the power and guidance of the devil; for he voluntarily throws away everything which can protect or deliver him from the adversary.

III. Despair of God’s mercy is groundless and unreasonable.

1. It is unreasonable to despair of God’s mercy, because He continues to you the enjoyment of life, and the means of grace. Will you say, There is no hope, while the walls of God’s house encircle you, while the light of the Sabbath shines upon you, while the Word of God is before you, and while the Gospel of salvation sounds in your ears!

2. The character of God, as revealed in His Word, shows that it is unreasonable for you to despair of His mercy.

3. The grand scheme of redemption revealed in the Gospel, renders it still more unreasonable to indulge despair.

4. The person, character, and invitations of Christ, show in the most striking and conclusive manner, that despair of salvation is unreasonable.

5. That it is unreasonable to despair of God’s mercy, is evident from the characters of many to whom it has already been extended. (E. Payson, D. D.)

Hopelessness condemned

I. Sources of this despair of amendment.

1. Indolence. It is the property of that quality of mind to be always seeking an apology for leaving things as they are. Sometimes it imagines difficulties, and sometimes dangers, neither of which have any real existence. There is what may be termed a vis inertiae, a power of indolence, in mind as well as in matter; and perhaps at the great day of account it will be found that where profligacy has slain its thousands, indolence has slain its ten thousands.

2. The secret love of sin. If we wish to be bad, how ready are we to believe that it is impossible to be better! The fallen heart is that marsh of corruption in which all things monstrous and mischievous find their birth and their dwelling place, and from whence they issue to the destruction of the peace of the individual and the injury of those around him.

3. A want of faith in the declaration of God. Will a merciful God command impossibilities? and yet He says, “Be ye perfect, as your Father which is in heaven is perfect”: “Be ye holy, as God is holy.” Will the holy God promise what He will not perform?

II. Some of the motives for endeavouring to escape from it.

1. This despair of amendment is altogether groundless. Imagine even your case to be as bad as possible. Suppose not only the spiritual health impaired, but the soul in a sense “dead,”--still I am privileged, on the authority of God, to affirm that this death is not necessarily either final or fatal. It is rather suspension than extinction. It is a state from which your Redeemer is willing to raise you.

2. The despair of amendment is irrational. Right reason in every instance demands an implicit acquiescence in the revealed will of God. But I name the unreasonableness of this despondency of improvement on purpose to touch on a particular point. If it be possible that you may fail by the one process, it is certain that you must fail by the other. If the success of vigilance and prayer be equivocal, the ruin which must follow despair is inevitable.

3. Such despair of growth in grace and holiness is deeply guilty. There is a sort of morbid humility on this subject, which leads men to value themselves on those doubts in the compassionate promises of God, which are in fact nothing short of a capital offence against Him. Is the earthly parent flattered by his children refusing to place confidence in his declarations of pity and love? And can the God of truth and compassion be gratified to find that, in spite of the language of Scripture, of His past dealings with His creatures, and in the constant experience of His Church, we should still presume to question His mercies, and doubt whether He, who spared not His own Son, but gave Him up for us all, will with Him also give us all things? (J. W. Cunningham, M. A.)

Desperation dangerous

I. A desperate conclusion.

I. In reference to themselves: despair as to their own amendment or reformation. There are people desperate in this regard because of--

(1) An absolute indisposition and averseness to all kind of good (Job 21:11). This proceeds from--a neglect of religious duties and exercises; a persisting in some loose course of life; a walking contrary to light; worldliness and too deep an implunging into secular affairs.

(2) An absolute thraldom and subjection to all kinds of evil. Spiritual laziness, unbelief of God’s promises, carnal confidence, indifference to the thing itself.

2. In reference to Jeremiah and his ministry; despair as to the value of preaching God’s messages amongst them. There are fortifications to this purpose, which men raise to themselves to hold out against the workings of the ministry.

(1) Pride and self-conceit.

(2) Cavillings and wranglings against the Word of the ministry.

(3) Prosperity and outward welfare.

3. In reference to God Himself. They despair of the grace of God, and call it in question.

(1) From the suggestions of Satan.

(2) From the infidelity which is in their hearts.

(3) From a measuring of God by themselves.

II. A peremptory resolution.

1. Simply and absolutely they declare that they will walk after their own devices.

(1) There is implied here that the nature of man is very prone and subject to evil devices.

(2) There is expressed here that there is in men an affection towards these devices. Their obstinacy and perverseness. Grounded upon security and presumption. Proceeding from the power which Satan has over them. They are not persuaded of the truth of God’s Word. Their conspiracy and combination. Their wilful transgression and sin against knowledge.

2. Reflexively and derivatively, they said this.

(1) Expressly in so many words.

(2) Practically in that which they did. (T. Horton, D. D.)

The terrors of a despairing heart

Bunyan very aptly pictures Diabolus when he was attacking the town of Mansoul, as making Captain Past-hope unfurl the red colours which were carried by Mr. Despair, and he also speaks of the roaring of the tyrant’s drum, which sounded forth terribly, especially by night, so that the men of Mansoul had always in their ears the sound of hell fire. Hell fire and all this to keep them from submitting to their gracious prince. Thus, for once, the devil craftily cooperates with the law of God and conscience; these would drive men to self-despair, but Satan would go farther, and compel them to despair as touching the Lord Himself, so as to believe that pardon for transgression is quite impossible. (C. H. Spurgeon.)

The despair of a man who abandoned his belief in God

Mr. Quint in Hogg tells a remarkable story of an incident which happened quite recently in a great London club. He was chatting with a friend about a man who had died by his own hand. His friend spoke rather indignantly of such an ignoble termination to life, and characterised it--rightly enough--as a cowardly thing for a man to leave others to meet the troubles and reap the bitter harvest he had sown. A well-known scientific man, who was sitting close by, turned round and said, “I consider you have expressed a very harsh judgment. I don’t consider it the action of a coward; and for myself, the only rest I can look forward to is the grave.” Mr. Hogg’s friend, thinking that perhaps the gentleman had lost some relative by suicide, qualified his remarks by saying that such crimes were generally committed with deranged minds, and that, of course, his words did not apply to a man irresponsible for his acts. “There is something worse than derangement,” was the reply, “and that is despair.” Mr. Hogg says that his friend was very much shocked at the words and at the tone in which they were uttered, and began to speak to the scientist as best he could about the love of God. He told him he could not imagine how those who accepted the help of God could ever despair. “Ah,” was the sad reply, “I gave up my belief in God long ago, and I have had nothing but a deepening despair ever since. I repeat that the grave is the only rest I can hope for--the only home that remains for me.” (The Young Man.)