We will take a momentary break from our holiday frivolity to bring you a final installment from Iain Murray’s Spurgeon v. Hyper-Calvinism. We will return tomorrow with more pointless drivel.

The last of four “Lessons from the Conflict” with the Hyper-Calvinists of Spurgeon’s day is that doctrine not kept in perspective can become a master rather than a servant. Iain Murray writes:

The final conclusion has to be that when Calvinism ceases to be evangelistic, when it becomes more concerned with theory than with the salvation of men and women, when the acceptance of doctrines seems to become more important than acceptance of Christ, then it is a system going to seed and it will invariably lose its attractive power. As we have seen, in his early ministries Spurgeon was opposed by those who believed that the Hyper-Calvinism of such eighteenth century-Baptists as John Gill represented the purest Christianity under heaven. That interpretation of history he knew to be wrong, not simply because it fell short of Scripture, but because its effect was to reduce endeavors for the conversion of sinners. ‘During the pastorate of my venerated predecessor, Dr. Gill, this Church, instead of increasing, gradually decreased . . . But mark this, from the day when Fuller, Carey, Sutcliffe, and others, met together to send out missionaries to India the sun began to dawn on a gracious revival which is not over yet.’
   In this connection it is noteworthy that just as renewed understanding of the free offer of the gospel led to the age of overseas missions in England it did also – by different means – in Scotland. As James Walker writes, Boston and the Morrow men ‘entered fully into the missionary spirit of the Bible’ and ‘were able to see that Calvinistic doctrine is inconsistent with world-conquering aspirations and efforts.’ Robert Moffat, Scots pioneer missionary in South Africa, was one of the outstanding results of this rediscovery. A Calvinist who made the Shorter Catechism of the Westminster Assembly one of the first publications of the infant missions press at Kuruman, Moffat had no hesitation in writing as follows in 1834:
   ‘I see nothing in the world worth looking after if it has not a direct reference to the gory and extension of the Redeemer’s kingdom; and were we always able to have a lively view of the myriads of who are descending into the horrible pit, our zeal would be proportionate. Much depends on us who have received the ministry of reconciliation, assured that God our Savior willeth the salvation of all.’
   To say this is not to deny that there have been preachers of Hyper-Calvinistic views whose preaching has been used In the conversion of many. Spurgeon was thankful for such men as John Warburton and John Kernshaw, men whose Christ-centeredness often enabled them to rise above their system. But in the hands of the general run of men who regarded Hyper-Calvinism as scriptural he believed the tendency of the preaching was inevitably injurious. By distorting and exaggerating truth the system misrepresented vital doctrines and made them offensive instead of appealing to the wider Christian world. He was convinced that the truths called Calvinistic would never be more widely received among the churches if the impression was allowed to prevail that these truths inhibited earnest evangelism, as they commonly did where Hyper-Calvinism became the accepted tradition. ‘I have seen,’ he says, ‘to my inexpressible grief, the doctrines of grace made a huge stone to be rolled at the mouth of the dead sepulcher of a dead Christ.’
   Hyper-Calvinism still exists today but what is needed far more than a renewed controversy on the subject is living evidence that the doctrines of grace are harmonious with true evangelistic preaching. The ministries of such men as Whitefield, Spurgeon, and, more recently, Lloyd-Jones, proved that more than a thousand books could ever do. Such preaching can only come from a baptism of new and deeper devotion to Christ. Much more than a change of opinion is needed. Spurgeon labored all his ministry for purity of doctrine but his final word was always this:
   ‘What is doctrine after all but the throne whereon Christ sitteth, and when the throne is vacant what is the throne to us? Doctrines are the shovel and tongs for the altar, while Christ is the sacrifice smoking thereon. Doctrines are Christ’s garments; verily they smell of myrrh, and cassia, and aloes out of the ivory places, whereby they make us glad, but it is not the garments we care for as much as the person, the very person, of our Lord Jesus Christ.’

—Iain Murray, Spurgeon v. Hyper-Calvinism (Banner of Truth, 2002), 120–122.

The second of four “Lessons from the Conflict” with the Hyper-Calvinists of Spurgeon’s day:

   This controversy brings out the danger which is created when biblical truths are constantly presented to the non-Christian in the wrong order. Spurgeon believed all the truths commonly called Calvinistic but he did not believe that all the truths commonly so designated had to be presented to sinners in order to their conversion. As noted, he wanted to see both divine sovereignty and human responsibility. The tendency of Hyper-Calvinism was to make sinners want to understand theology before they could believe in Christ, as though ‘they cannot be saved until they are theologians.’ But the non-Christian can hear ‘the soul and marrow of the gospel’, that is, Christ as the Savior, and see his responsibility to repent and believe, without understanding ‘the doctrines commonly called Calvinistic’. It is with his responsibility, says Spurgeon, that ‘the sinner has the most to do’, whereas God’s predestining grace is the subject of with which ‘the saint has most to do. Let him praise the free and sovereign grace of God, and bless his name’.
   In so thinking Spurgeon was surely siding with what the wisest preachers in the church had always taught. While Reformed Confessions may begin with statements on the doctrine of God and divine decrees, that is not where preachers and teachers need to begin in addressing men about salvation. In the apostolic teaching to the lost, recorded in the book of Acts, nothing is said of the doctrine of election, while in the Epistles ‘it is scarcely ever omitted’. In accordance with his approach, Calvin, in the later editions of his Institutes, moved his treatment of election to follow teaching on justification. He recognized that Scripture generally introduces the doctrine of election to show believers the security and certainty of their salvation and to make clear who made them to differ. But when election is constantly introduced as a preliminary to hearing the gospel it inevitably comes to be seen as though it were designed to limit or obstruct the salvation of men and women. No one put this point better than John Bradford, the English reformer, whose words were often quoted by Whitefield, ‘let a man go to the grammar school of faith and repentance, before he goes to the university of election and predestination.’
   It ought not to be the business of the evangelist to teach God’s decrees to the unconverted. It is certainly God’s decree of salvation which is fulfilled in conversion but knowledge of that decree is no part of saving faith. As Crawford says, God’s decrees are his fixed purposes and his ‘secret designs for the regulation of his own procedure; but they are not rules of laws prescribed for the guidance of others . . . The doctrine of election is not to be regarded as what an apostle calls “milk that babes have need of,” but as the “strong meat that belongs to them who are of full age.” It ought not, therefore, to be prefixed to the calls of the Gospel, or placed in the fore-front of the calls and invitations which are therein addressed without restriction to all sinners. When so placed, it is apt to perplex and disquiet humble souls . . . No man can be of the number of the elect if he utterly neglects the appointed means of salvation; and no man can be of the number of the non-elect if he truly repents and unfiegnedly believes the Gospel. The salvation of a sinner is actually brought to pass, according to the plainest declarations of the Holy Scripture, in the way of faith and repentance, and no otherwise.’

—Iain Murray, Spurgeon v. Hyper-Calvinism (Banner of Truth, 2002), 114–117.

Iain Murray lists four “Lessons from the Conflict” with the Hyper-Calvinists of Spurgeon’s day. The first concerns the divisiveness of the Hyper-Calvinists, which Spurgeon deplored. Murray writes:

   Genuine evangelical Christianity is never of an exclusive spirit. Any view of the truth which undermines catholicity has gone astray from Scripture. This was the point which played a considerable part in Spurgeon’s inability to join with the Strict Baptists. He could speak of them as ‘about the best people in the world,’ but the practice of many of their churches in restricting the Lord’s table to Baptists grieved him. Christians may be divided over their beliefs concerning the outward sign; they are not divided in the spiritual reality of symbolized: ‘I always say to Strict Baptist brethren who think it is a dreadful thing for baptized believers to commune with the unbaptized: “But you cannot help it; if you are the people of God you must commune with all saints, baptized or not. You may deny them outward and visible sign, but you cannot keep them from the inward and spiritual grace.” If a man be a child of God, I do not care what I may think about him – if he be a child of God I do commune with him and I must.’
   But he saw this professed separation of Strict Communion Baptists from the rest of the visible church was frequently made the more serious by the tenets of Hyper-Calvinism. Its teachers, from Huntington onwards, has commonly made faith in election a part of saving faith and thus either denied the Christianity of all professed Christians who did not so believe, or at least, treated such profession with much suspicion. In so doing they had spread the idea that Calvinism is necessarily exclusive, that there is something inherent in its tenets which lead men to separate from others. Spurgeon deplored the way that the abuse of the doctrine of election had thus been used to foster division:
   ‘We give our hand to every man that loves the Lord Jesus Christ, be he what he may or who he may. The doctrine of election, like the great act of election itself, is intended to divide, not between Israel and Israel, but between Israel and the Egyptians, – not between saint and saint, but between saints and the children of the world. A man may be evidently of God’s chosen family, and yet though elected, may not believe in the doctrine of election. I hold there are many savingly called, who do not believe in effectual calling, and that there are a great many who persevere to the end, who do not believe the doctrine of final perseverance. We do hope that the hearts of many are a great deal better than their heads. We do not set their fallacies down to any willful opposition to the truth as it is in Jesus, but simply to an error in their judgments, which we pray God to correct. We hope that if they think us mistaken too, they will reciprocate the same Christian courtesy; and when we meet around the cross, we hope that we shall ever feel that we are one in Christ Jesus.

—Iain Murray, Spurgeon v. Hyper-Calvinism (Banner of Truth, 2002), 110–112.

Spurgeon, contra Hyper-Calvinism, believed in the universal love of God for all men. He also believed, contra Arminianism, in the particular electing love of God for his chosen bride.

From what [Spurgeon taught] on the universal love of God, Hyper-Calvinists deduced that Spurgeon did not believe in a special electing love which secures the salvation of all those for whom Christ died. Sometimes Christians of Arminian persuasion, with a superficial knowledge of Spurgeon, have reached the same conclusion on Spurgeon’s position. But this is the same mistake as can be made in reading the Bible itself. All references to divine love in Scripture are not to be interpreted as universal (Arminianism), neither are they all to be made particular (Hyper-Calvinism). There is a differentiation observable in Scripture. In speaking to Christians Spurgeon would often make the difference clear: ‘Beloved, the benevolent love of Jesus is more extended than the lines of his electing love . . . That [i.e. the love revealed in Matthew 23:37] is not the love which beams resplendently upon his chosen, but it is true love for all that.’ God’s special love ‘is not love for all men . . . There is an electing, discriminating, distinguishing love, which is settled upon a chosen people . . . and it is this love which is the true resting place for the saint.’
   Arminianism, by making universal benevolence the only love revealed in Scripture, denies the sovereignty of grace and leads men to suppose that God had to make salvation equally available to all. Hyper-Calvinism, on the other hand, denies, in the words of John Murray, ‘that there is a love of God that goes forth to lost men and is manifested in the manifold blessings which all men without distinction enjoy, a love in which non-elect persons are embraced, and a love that comes to its highest expression in the entreaties, overtures and demands of gospel proclamation.’
   While holding firmly to these important theological distinctions, Spurgeon did not believe that they were ones which had necessarily to be introduced in presenting the gospel to the unconverted and he warned against the kind of preaching which appears more concerned to safeguard orthodoxy than to save the lost. ‘Many good people think they ought to guard the gospel . . . When we protect it with provisos, and guard it with exceptions, and qualify it with observations, it is like David in Saul’s armour.’
   He refused to explain how men could be held accountable for not trusting in a Saviour in whom they were never chosen, on the grounds that Scripture itself offers no explanation. It was enough for him that there is a salvation to be preached with love to all and that he call all to come to Christ and to say, ‘If he died for all those who trust him, I will trust him; if he has offered so great a sacrifice upon the tree for guilty men, I will rely upon that sacrifice and make it the basis of my hope.’

—Iain Murray, Spurgeon v. Hyper-Calvinism (Banner of Truth, 2002), 97–99.

The third reason given by Murray for Spurgeon’s rejection of Hyper-Calvinism was the denial of human responsibility.

Spurgeon regarded an emphasis on man’s free-agency as absolutely essential to true evangelism. Because Scripture teaches that conversion is the work of God, Hyper-Calvinism fears to appeal for human action lest it interferes with God. But Scripture also presents conversion as the work of man and recognizes no inconsistency in calling upon men to be reconciled to God. Because it does not recognize this, Hyper-Calvinism fails to tell the unconverted that it is heir fault alone if they remain unsaved under the gospel and that their damnation will be their own work. Not only is faith in Christ a duty, but as Spurgeon often showed from Scripture, a refusal to believe on Christ will be found at last o be a greater offence than the iniquities of Sodom and Gomorrah. ‘Is it not the very summit of arrogance and the height of pride for a son of Adam to say, even in his heart, “God, I doubt thy grace; God, I doubt Thy love; God, I doubt Thy power”? I feel that, could we roll all sins into one mass, — could we take murder, blasphemy, lust, adultery, fornication, and everything that is vile, and unite them all into one vast globe of black corruption, — they would not even then equal the sin of unbelief.’’
     In his autobiography Spurgeon reports how in his early days, before he came to London, he found himself with some ministers and others of Hyper-Calvinistic views ‘who were disputing whether it was a sin in men that they did not believe the gospel.’ The shock he felt on that occasion was to remain with him all his days: ‘Whilst they were discussing, I said, “Gentlemen, am I in the presence of Christians? Are you believers in the Bible or are you not?” They said, “We are Christians, of course.” “Then,” said I, “does not the Scripture say, ‘of sin, because they believe not on Me?’ And is it not the damning sin of men, that they do not believe on Christ?”’
     Spurgeon used this incident in the second sermon of the first volume of the New Park Street Pulpit, entitled ‘The Sin of Unbelief, and, as we have seen, much of the contention of Hyper-Calvinism against his preaching concerned this point. ‘I hold,’ he says, ‘as firmly as any man living, that repentance and conversion are the work of the Holy Spirit, but I would sooner lose this hand, and both, than I would give up preaching that it is the duty of men to repent and believe and that it is the duty of Christian ministers to say to them, “Repent and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out.”’
     Spurgeon frequently spoke against Hyper-Calvinism in his sermons. He did so at some length in an ‘Exposition of the Doctrines of Grace’ at the time of the opening of the Metropolitan Tabernacle in 1861 when he forcefully repudiated any idea of fatalism and insisted, ‘If he be lost, damnation is all of man; but, if he be saved, still salvation is all of God.’ God did not make men to be damned but, as Spurgeon showed from the Westminster Assembly’s Larger Catechism, wrath is only inflicted on men on account of sin: ‘This is no more than what the Methodist and all other Evangelical bodies acknowledge — that where men perish it is in consequence of their sin.’
     In his Preface to the Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit for 1863 he made what was possibly the last of his open appeals to those whom he describes as ‘led captive by ultra-calvinistic theories’, calling upon them to ‘preach the whole gospel, instead of a part’: ‘Divine sovereignty is a great and indisputable fact, but human responsibility is quite as indisputable . . . Faith is God’s gift, but it is also the act of renewed manhood. Damnation is the result of justice, not of arbitrary predestination. O that the time were come when seeming opposites would be received, because faith knows that they are portions of one harmonious whole. Would that an enlarged view of the dispensations of God to man would permit men to be faithful to the human race, and at the same time true to the Sovereign Lord of all.’

—Iain Murray, Spurgeon v. Hyper-Calvinism (Banner of Truth, 2002), 84–87.

Last week, I began looking at four reasons why Spurgeon rejected Hyper-Calvinism. The first was the universal invitation of the gospel, denied by the Hyper-Calvinists. The second is

that it turned individuals away from their only sure warrant for trusting in Christ, namely, the objective commands and invitations of the gospel. Hyper-Calvinism denies such a universal warrant, applicable to all, and claims, instead, that Scripture only addresses invitations to specific people — to the penitent, the ‘heavy laden’, to the convicted, to the ‘sensible’ sinner and so on. Under such preaching, gospel hearers must first find some warrant within themselves for thinking that Christ’s invitations are addressed to them personally. Subjective experience is thus made a kind of necessary preliminary and qualification before anyone can trust in scriptural promises. Against this, Spurgeon held that the scriptural warrant for the unconverted to trust in Christ rests on nothing in themselves; the warrant lies in the invitation of Christ. His entire presentation of the gospel turned on the truth that no sinner has any more warrant than any other for trusting in Christ. The warrant lies in Scripture alone. Before a man has any willingness to be saved, it is ‘his duty to believe in Christ, for it is not man’s willingness that gives him a right to believe. Men are to believe in obedience to God’s command. God commandeth all men everywhere to repent, and this is his great command, “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved”.’ Christ’s ambassadors are authorised to call ‘on all people of every clime and kindred, to believe the gospel with a promise of personal salvation to each and every one that believes.’ The message is not, ‘Wait for feelings’, it is, ‘Believe and live’. ‘I find Jesus Christ says nothing to sinners about waiting, but very much about coming.’
   To this the Hyper-Calvinists replied that if all are called to trust in Christ then such trust must involve them in believing a falsehood because Christ has not died for all. In their view, to preach a universal warrant is to deny that redemption is definite and particular. This was a further ground for charging Spurgeon with inconsistency, for he believed in particular redemption and yet summoned all to believe in Christ. But Spurgeon, along with Scripture, did not make, ‘Believe that Christ died for you’, part of faith to which the unbeliever is summoned. The call to the sinner is to commit himself to Christ, not because he has been saved but rather because he is lost and must come to Jesus in order to be saved.
. . .
   To deny a universal warrant, and to require subjective experiences before Christ is trusted, is bound to lead to confusion and legality. Such teaching makes men look at themselves instead of the Saviour. It leads people to suppose that possessing a broken heart and feeling the burden of sin are some kind of qualification for believing. But this is to require a discernment on the part of would-be converts for which Scripture does not ask. The truth is that individuals under conviction are unable to understand themselves and it is common for those who are most burdened to fear that they have no true sense of sin at all. The Holy Spirit is indeed given to convict of sin but Scripture says nothing about him assuring the convicted of their convictions prior to faith. On this Spurgeon says in the same sermon on ‘The Warrant of Faith’:
   ‘I believe the tendency of that preaching which puts the warrant for faith anywhere but in the gospel command, is to vex the true penitent, and to console the hypocrite; the tendency of it is to make the poor soul which really repents, feel that he must not believe in Christ, because he sees so much of his own hardness of heart. The more spiritual a man is, the more unspiritual he see himself to be . . . Often the most penitent men are those who think themselves the most impenitent.’
   ‘If we begin to preach to sinners that they must have a certain sense of sin and a certain measure of conviction, such teaching would turn the sinner away from God in Christ to himself. The man begins at once to say, “Have I a broken heart? Do I feel the burden of sin?” This is only another form of looking at self. Man must not look to himself to find reasons for God’s grace.’

—Iain Murray, Spurgeon v. Hyper-Calvinism (Banner of Truth, 2002), 71–74, 77–78.

Iain Murray presents four reasons for Spurgeon’s vehement opposition to Hyper-Calvinism. The first is the universal invitation of the gospel, which the Hyper-Calvinists denied and assiduously avoided.

Spurgeon believed that historic evangelicalism differed from Hyper-Calvinism over the persons to whom the promises of the gospel are to be preached. Hyper-Calvinism views gospel preaching solely as a means for the ingathering of God’s elect. It argues that such words as, ‘Trust in Christ and you will be saved’, should only be addressed to elect sinners for it is their salvation alone which the preacher should have in view. For a preacher to convey to his hearers the impression that they are all called to receive Christ, and to believe in him for salvation, is to deny, in the opinion of Hyper-Calvinists, the sovereignty of divine grace. It is to represent salvation as available to those whom God has excluded by the decree of election. Gospel preaching for Hyper-Calvinists means a declaration of the facts of the gospel but nothing should be said by way of encouraging individuals to believe that the promises of Christ are made to them particularly until there is evidence that the Spirit of God has begun a saving work in their hearts, convicting them and making them ‘sensible’ of their need.
   Spurgeon rejected the placing of such a restriction upon the invitation of the gospel. The gospel is ‘good news’ which God would have proclaimed throughout the world and to ‘every creature’. Its message is not simply a statement of facts. It also contains clear, unrestricted general promises, such as, ‘He that believeth on him is not condemned’ (John 3:18); ‘Whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall be saved’ (Rom. 10:13); ‘Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely’ (Rev. 22:17). So the preacher has not done his work when he has spoken of Christ and proclaimed the historic facts of salvation. From there he must go on to urge the reception of Christ upon all men. In the name of God he must assure all of the certainty of their welcome and forgiveness on their repentance and faith. Thus Paul said to all his hearers at Antioch in Pisidia: ‘Be it known unto you, men and brethren, that through this man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins: And by him all that believe are justified from all things, from which ye could not be justified by the law of Moses’ (Acts 13:38–9). The apostle evidently knew of no limitations. Christ was to be preached, ‘warning every man’ — any one, every one — ‘and teaching every man in all wisdom; that we may present every man perfect in Christ Jesus’ (Col. 1:28). Words could scarcely be more embracing and individual.
   Hyper-Calvinists argued that gospel promises and invitations cannot be made universal because saving grace is special and particular. Spurgeon replied by asserting that the language of Scripture can be given no other meaning. In a sermon entitled ‘Apostolic Exhortation’, on Peter’s words to all his hearers, ‘Repent ye therefore and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out’ (Acts 3:19), he says:
   ‘Peter preached the Christ of the gospel — preached it personally and directly at the crowd who were gathered around him . . . Grown up among us is a school of men who say that they rightly preach the gospel to sinners when they merely deliver statements of what the gospel is, and the result of dying unsaved, but they grow furious and talk of unsoundness if any venture to say to the sinner, “Believe”, or “Repent”. To this school Peter did not belong — into their secret he had never come, and with their assembly, were he alive now, he would not be joined.’
   In another sermon he refers to brethren who ‘do not think it to be their duty to go into the highways and hedges’ and bid all, as many as they find, to come to the supper. Oh, no! They are too orthodox to obey the Master’s will; they desire to understand first who are appointed to come to the supper, and then they will invite them; that is to say, they will do what there is no necessity to do [i.e., present the gospel to those who are already saved]. In contrast with this, the apostles ‘delivered the gospel, the same gospel to the dead as to the living, the same gospel to the non-elect as to the elect. The point of distinction not in the gospel, but in its being applied by the Holy Ghost, or left to be rejected of man.’

—Iain Murray, Spurgeon v. Hyper-Calvinism (Banner of Truth, 2002), 69–71.

At the end of his notes on John 6:3, Charles Spurgeon wrote the following comment:

Read, write, print, shout, – “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.” Great Saviour, I thank Thee for this text; help Thou me so to preach from it that many may come to Thee, and find eternal life!

—Iain Murray, Spurgeon v. Hyper-Calvinism (Banner of Truth, 2002), 50.

Throughout most of Spurgeon’s ministry, both he and his wife suffered greatly with ill health. But rather than remonstrate bitterly with God, he recognized trials as a necessary part of his sanctification, and as a part of fitting him for ministry. As Iain Murray writes, Spurgeon believed that without without difficulties,

he would have been ruined. Fallen men, though Christians, cannot long be surrounded by popularity and success without the special help of God. ‘Our God takes care always to have the security that, if He works a great work by us, we shall not appropriate the glory of it to ourselves. He brings us down lower and lower in our own esteem . . . Some trumpets are so stuffed with self that God cannot blow through them.’ ‘You may rest quite certain that, if God honors any man in public, he takes him aside privately, and flogs him well, otherwise he would get elevated and proud, and God will not have that.’ ‘Many a man has been elevated until his brain has grown dizzy, and he has fallen to his destruction. He who is to be made to stand securely in a high place has need to be put through sharp affliction. More men are destroyed by prosperity and success than by affliction and apparent failure.’

—Iain Murray, Spurgeon v. Hyper-Calvinism (Banner of Truth, 2002), 17–18.

It is with great pleasure, as usual, that I pick up another Iain Murray volume from Banner of Truth. This one, Spurgeon v. Hyper-Calvinism, is different from the others I’ve read in a couple of ways. First, it’s a paperback. (I pause here to direct a frown in the Banner’s direction. It was never published in hardcover, so I couldn’t even track down a used copy, as I often do, and I can't set it next to my cloth-bound Murray volumes on the shelf.) Second, it turns our critical eye one hundred and eighty degrees from its usual orientation, away from the Arminians, and toward the hyper-Calvinists.

Murray begins with a little biographical information, and comments on the remarkable scope of Spurgeon’s influence. Spurgeon’s preaching ministry in London spanned thirty-seven years, from 1854–1891. During that time, “If we take into account [Murray writes] both his spoken and written words, it is estimated that each weak his ‘congregation’ amounted to about a million people.” Beginning in 1855, his sermons were published weekly, and also compiled in annually, the 63rd and final volume published twenty-five years posthumously. And that was just his preaching. In addition, he published “about 50 other works and edited 28 volumes of The Sword and Trowel.” His publishers, Passmore and Alabaster, were kept busy — and in business — with publishing Spurgeon’s works alone. Murray writes:

   The obvious question is, how could any man retain such influence over so many people through such a long period? How can we account for the enduring interest? How could a man speak so often, and write so much, without losing his freshness and his appeal? It is true Spurgeon possessed unusual gifts, and that he worked very hard, but we cannot get anywhere near the real answer if we think merely in terms of what he was or did. The explanation lies in the Book that was in his hands, the Book that was his constant companion, and which he lived to preach and study. All the blessing he attributed to that source. His own thoughts, his own opinions, would have achieved nothing:
   ‘“The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul”; nothing else but the living Word of God will convince, convert, renew and sanctify. He has promised that this shall not return unto him void; but He has made no such promise to the wisdom of men, or the excellency of human speech. The Spirit of God works with the Word of God . . . All his paths drop fatness; but man’s paths are barrenness.’
   In possessing the Bible Spurgeon believed that the church has an inexhaustible source of light and heat. What he said once of John Bunyan could be equally said of himself, ‘Prick him anywhere and his bloodline is bibline’. The content of his sermons and his books is plain, you might say, ordinary, Scripture. The energy of his prayerful adherence to Scripture is the true explanation of his work:
   ‘The Bible is a wonderful book . . . You can use it for a lamp at night. You can use it for a screen by day. It is a universal book; it is the Book of books, and has furnished material for mountains of books; it is made of what I call bibline, or the essence of books . . . This one book is enough to last a man throughout the whole of his life, however diligently he may study it.’

—Iain Murray, Spurgeon v. Hyper-Calvinism (Banner of Truth, 2002), 12–13.

Spurgeon on the unhesitatingly confrontational character of Christ:

Brethren, the Savior’s character has all goodness and all perfection; he is full of grace and truth. Some men, nowaday, talk of him as if he were simply incarnate benevolence. It is not so. No lips ever spoke with such thundering indignation against sin as the lips of the Messiah. “He is like a refiner’s fire, and like a fuller’s soap. His fan is in his hand, and he will thoroughly purge his floor.” while in tenderness he prays for his tempted disciple, that his faith may not fail, yet with awful sternness he winnows the heap, and drives away the chaff into unquenchable fire. We speak of Christ as being meek and lowly in spirit, and so he was. A bruised reed he did not break, and the smoking flax he did not quench; but his meekness was balanced by his courage, and by the boldness with which he denounced hypocrisy. “Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, ye fools and blind, ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell?” These are not words of the milksop some authors represent Christ to have been. He is a man—a thorough man throughout—a God-like man—gentle as a woman, but yet stern as a warrior in the midst of the day of battle. The character is balanced; as much of one virtue as another. As in Deity every attribute is full orbed; justice never eclipses mercy, nor mercy justice, nor justice faithfulness; so in the character of Christ you have all the excellent things.

—Charles Spurgeon, “Sweet Saviour,” cited in John MacArthur, The Jesus You Can’t Ignore (Thomas Nelson, 2009), 99.

I will bow down toward Your holy temple

And give thanks to Your name for Your lovingkindness and Your truth;

For You have magnified Your word according to all Your name.

—Psalm 138:2

A word of encouragement from Spurgeon for all of us “bibliolaters.”

The word of promise made to David was in his eyes more glorious than all else that he had seen of the Most High. Revelation excels creation in the clearness, definiteness and fullness of its teaching. The name of the Lord in nature is not so easily read as in the Scriptures, which are a revelation in human language, specially adapted to the human mind, treating of human need, and of a Saviour who appeared in human nature to redeem humanity. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but the divine word will not pass away, and in this respect especially it has a pre-eminence over every other form of manifestation. Moreover, the Lord lays all the rest of his name under tribute to his word: his wisdom, power, love, and all his other attributes combine to carry out his word. It is his word which creates, sustains, quickens, enlightens, and comforts. As a word of command it is supreme; and in the person of the incarnate Word it is set above all the works of God’s hands. The sentence in the text is wonderfully full of meaning. . . . Let us adore the Lord who has spoken to us by his word, and by his son; and in the presence of unbelievers let us both praise his holy name and extol his holy word.

—Charles Spurgeon, The Treasury of David (Hendrickson, 1988), 3:244–245.

Of old I have known from Your testimonies
That You have founded them forever.
                           —Psalm 119:152

How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,
Is laid for your faith in his excellent Word.
                           —John Rippon, 1787

It is the blessed privilege of all believers to rest in the knowledge of the promises God has given in his Word. His promises are everlasting promises that cannot fail.

   “Concerning thy testimonies, I have known of old that thou hast founded them for ever.” David found of old that God had founded them of old, and that they would stand firm thorough all ages. It is a very blessed thing to be so early taught of God that we know substantial doctrines even from our youth. Those who think that David was a young man when he wrote this Psalm will find it rather difficult to reconcile this verse with the theory; it is much more probable that he was now grown grey, and was looking back upon what he had known long before. He knew at the very first that the doctrines of God’s Word were settled before earth world began, that they had never altered, and never could by any possibility be altered. He had begun by building on a rock, by seeing that God’s testimonies were “founded,” that is, grounded, laid as foundations, settled and established; and that with a view to all the ages that should come, during all the changes that should intervene. It was because David knew this that he had such confidence in prayer, and was so importunate it in. It is sweet to plead immutable promises with an immutable God. Is was because of this that David learned to hope: a confidence in a God who cannot change. It was because of this that he delighted in being near the Lord, for it is a most blessed thing to keep up close intercourse with a Friend who never varies. Let those who choose follow at the heels of the modern school and look for fresh light to break forth which well put the old light out of countenance; we are satisfied with the truth which is old as the hills and as fixed as the great mountains. Let “cultured intellects” invent another god, more gentle and effeminate that the God of Abraham; we are well content to worship Jehovah, who is eternally the same. Things everlastingly established are the joy of established saints. Bubbles please boys, but men prize those things which are solid and substantial, with a foundation and a bottom to them which will bear the test of ages.

—Charles Spurgeon, The Treasury of David (Hendrickson, 1988), 3:403–404.

Your word is a lamp to my feet
   And a light to my path.
                —Psalm 119:105

Proverbs 4:19 reads, “The way of the wicked is like darkness; / They do not know over what they stumble.” But we have the lamp of God’s Word to illumine our way. Spurgeon wrote:

   “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet.” We are walkers through the city of this world, and we are often called to go out into its darkness; let us never venture there without the light-giving word, lest we slip with our feet. Each man should use the word of God personally, practically, and habitually, that he may see his way and what lies in it. When darkness settles down upon all around me, the word of the Lord, like a flaming torch, reveals my way. Having no fixed lamps in eastern towns, in old time each passenger carried a lantern that he might not fall into one of the open sewers or stumble over heaps of ordure which defiled the road. This is a true picture of our path through this dark world; we should not know the way, or how to walk in it, if the Scripture, like a blazing flambeau, did not reveal it. One of the most practical benefits of Holy Writ is guidance in the acts of daily life; it is not sent to astound us with its brilliance, but to guide us by its instruction. It is true the head needs illumination, but even more the feet need direction, else head and feet may both fall into a ditch. Happy is the man who personally appropriates God’s Word, and practically uses it as his comfort and counsellor,—a lamp to his own feet. “And a light unto my path.” It is a lamp by night, a light by day, and a delight at all times. David guided his own steps by it, and also saw the difficulties of his road by its beams. He who walks in darkness is sure, sooner or later, to stumble; while he who walks by the light of day, or by the lamp of night, stumbleth not, but keeps his uprightness. Ignorance is painful on practical subjects; it breeds indecision and suspense, and these are uncomfortable: the word of God, by imparting heavenly knowledge, leads to decision, and when that is followed by determined resolution, as in this case, it brings with it great restfulness of heart.

—Charles Spurgeon, The Treasury of David (Hendrickson, 1988), 3:342.

Forever, O Lord,
   Your word is settled in heaven.
                    —Psalm 119:89

It seems, these days, that there is not a lot we can count on. The stock market is down, our investments are failing, and the (American) President and Congress seem intent on making sure our economy is entirely devastated. We can no longer count on the Constitution to protect us from tyranny. Marriages are failing and families are falling apart all around us. The very definition of “family” can no longer be assumed. The (nominal) Church makes little pretense any more of believing the God of the Bible.

In spite of the bleak circumstances in which we live, we have a sure foundation that will not fail. C. H. Spurgeon wrote,

   “For ever, Oh Lord, thy word is settled in heaven.” The strain is more joyful, for experience has given the sweet singer a comfortable knowledge of the word of the Lord, and this makes a glad theme. After tossing about on the sea of trouble the Psalmist here leaps to shore and stands upon a rock. Jehovah’s word is not fickle nor uncertain; it is settled, determined, fixed, sure, immovable. Man’s teachings change so often that there is never time for them to be settled; but the Lord’s word is from of old the same, and will remain unchanged eternally. Some men are never happier than when they are unsettling everything and everybody; but Gods mind is not with them. The power and glory of heaven have confirmed each sentence which the mouth of the Lord has spoken, and so confirmed it that to all eternity it must stand the same,—settled in heaven, where nothing can reach it. In the former section David’s soul fainted, but here the good man looks out of self and perceives that the Lord fainteth not, neither is weary, neither is there any failure in his word.
   The verse takes the form of an ascription of praise: the faithfulness and immutability of God are fit themes for holy song, and when we are tired with gazing upon the shifting scene of this life, the thought of the immutable promise fills our mouth with singing. God’s purposes, promises, and precepts are all settled in his own mind, and none of them shall be disturbed. Covenant settlements will not be removed, however unsettled the thoughts of men may become; lets us therefore settle it in our minds that we abide in the faith of our Jehovah as long as we have any being.

—Charles Spurgeon, The Treasury of David (Hendrickson, 1988), 3:314.

The grass withers, the flower fades,
   But the word of our God stands forever.
                              —Isaiah 40:8

Not long after I was saved, I attended a Lutheran Bible school. With typical new-believer zeal, I soon became convinced that I should pursue vocational ministry. With typical young-man impudence, I had my own ideas on how that should be done. I knew that, in order to be recognized and accepted, I would have to go to college and seminary (I called it “cemetery”); but that was just a formality, necessary to appease the establishment. All a man really needed, I thought, was his Bible and the Holy Spirit. If a man just knew his Bible inside and out, and was filled with the Holy Spirit, what more could he need?

Seminary was a place where men filled their heads with the philosophies of men. I definitely didn’t want that. Of course, it was alright if I chose some books to read on my own. That was different. What I certainly did not need, however, was Bible commentaries or systematic theologies. I didn’t need men to tell me what the Bible meant! That was the Holy Spirit’s job.

At some point in my journey, I heard of a guy named Charles Spurgeon. Spurgeon never went to college or seminary. I didn’t know anything about Spurgeon, except that he was a famous preacher, admired by many. What did he have that I didn’t have? [Let us now pause for a moment of hearty laughter.]

Well, Spurgeon had many things that I didn’t have, including unique gifting and a massive intellect. More importantly, he had the humility to know that he needed more than his Bible and the Holy Spirit. At a time when books were not the cheap commodity they are today, Spurgeon’s personal library contained some 12,000 books, including commentaries. He even wrote a book on commentaries! Spurgeon possessed no degrees, but he was far from uneducated. He clearly saw the need to learn from other men. As he put it,

I am amazed that those who think so much of what the Holy Spirit can teach them often think so little of what the Holy Spirit has taught others.*

The Lord was gracious to lead me away from that kind of thinking. One of the ways he did that was to put me in contact with other men who had the same attitude as I, and let me see the depth of their ministries. There was no depth. Their theology was immature and shallow. They tended to ride hobby-horses, and be easily taken in by the odd doctrines of other uneducated men. They often fashioned their own strange beliefs from small portions of Scripture isolated from the whole of God’s Word. They were completely ignorant of basic hermeneutics.

In contrast to those men, the teachers that I admired and hoped to emulate were well educated formally or at least, like Spurgeon, were voracious readers and diligent students.

I was not pleased to find myself in the first group. I saw the fruit of both philosophies, and knew which kind I wanted to produce.

This is really a matter of humility, isn’t it? “Just me and God” says “No man is my superior. I am equal to all those who have gone before me.” In fact, it says more than that. It says that I am their superior. They learned from others, but I can do it on my own. What audacity. How foolish. We all need teachers; it is few of us who will ever become their equals, and fewer still who will exceed their knowledge, skill, and wisdom.

The Lord never did lead me into any vocational ministry, and graciously prevented me from getting there my own way. Nevertheless, I am grateful for this lesson. I am so glad that I learned to learn from others.

We want again Luthers, Calvins, Bunyans, Whitefields, men fit to mark eras, whose names breathe terror in our foemen’s ears. We have dire need of such. Whence will they come to us? They are the gift of Jesus Christ to the church, and will come in due time. He has power to give back again a golden age of preachers, and when the good old truth is one more preached by men whose lips are touched as with a live coal from off the alter, this shall be the instrument in the hand of the Spirit for bringing about a great and thorough revival of religion in the land. . . .
    I do not look for any other means of converting men beyond the simple preaching of the gospel and the opening of men’s ears to hear it. The moment the church of God shall despise the pulpit, God will despise her. It has been through the ministry that the Lord has always been pleased to receive and bless His churches.

—Charles Spurgeon, as quoted by Lawson in The Expository Genius of John Calvin (Reformation Trust, 2007),132–133.

I suspect the Lord may have told Phil Johnson to post this quote from Spurgeon, but I can't say for sure. I can only speak for myself: the Lord told me that Spurgeon was right.