Nehemiah 1:4-11 And it came to pass, when I heard these words, that I sat down and wept, and mourned certain days, and fasted… The story begins with an account of the condition of Jerusalem. At this time the city was in a bad plight — walls broken down, gateways burned with fire, streets deserted and grass grown. The heathen passed by in scornful derision and said, "Is this the city which wag called beautiful, the joy of the whole earth?" Only six months go by, and what a wonderful change! The walls are built and the gateways are secure. Instead of a few people with bent heads and sad hearts, there is a great army of workmen. What had happened? Had God sent some prophet into their midst like Elijah, stirring the hearts of the people? or some mother in Israel like Deborah of old? or another warrior like Gideon or David? Less than that, a great deal less than that, as we count things, but more than that, much more than that, as we ought to count things. One man had taken the sorrows of Jerusalem in upon his heart — that was all. One man had taken the sad state of things in upon his heart, and began to sorrow about it, and weep over it, and thought so much about it that it quite spoiled his appetite. He could not rest by day or night, and at last he had to take the burden right in before God and cast it upon Him. That was all. Ah, but that is all that is wanted! The world's salvation rests not upon organisations, upon means, upon preachers, or upon arrangements, but upon deep personal interest — personal interest leading to importunate prayer, and importunate prayer leading to earnest effort. That is the only way in which the Church can ever be victorious, and can ever be saved. The saddest thing to-day is that men are Christians without being Christlike, that men do not take the sins and sorrows of the world in upon their hearts. Now what are the most of us doing? 1. Here is one who has heard these evil tidings of to-day, and of a thousand other ills that afflict and disgrace our land. "It is sad," he says, "very sad indeed; I do wish I could help you. But you see I can do so very little. I will double my subscription for a year; but of course I am not in a position to do anything more. You see I am not a prophet, or then I might go forth and preach to the people. I am not a priest, and must not take upon myself a task which belongs to others. I am not a warrior, and cannot head a host of soldiers, or no doubt I should fight. I don't see that I can do anything." And the man is going away quite satisfied that he at any rate has done his duty. This is the average Christian of the nineteenth century. Now there comes some simple man who lays his hand upon this man's shoulder, and says, "There is one thing we can do; we can pray about it." Then there comes the amiable smile which we keep for weak, well-meaning people — "Of course, my friend; of course. We all do that, you know." And the adversity continues as it always does when we pray without personal interest. 2. Then I think of another who has heard of the sad condition of things, and he says, "Well, I really am very lorry, indeed; yes, quite distressed. You know, I think that there must be a great deal of mismanagement up in Jerusalem somewhere; Ezra cannot be looking after it as he ought to be; I feel he is wrong altogether; I think it is a disgrace to him. I wonder whether he thinks David would ever have allowed a condition of things like this to come about?" Personal interest leading people to abuse the workers — that is not a very uncommon thing. "It is dreadful, this condition of things in London. But do you think that ministers are doing their duty?" It is so easy, is it not, when we are disappointed and sad, to fling stones at other people? It is such a relief to be able to find fault with somebody else. Then I think this simple man comes up and says," Do not you think we ought to pray for them? They have got hard work, and it is difficult to get at." "Oh, pray! yes, of course; pray all day, of course." That is a horrible spirit, the spirit that prays as a matter of course, and finds fault with everybody else as a matter of course, too. If you cannot do good, do not go shooting arrows into the hearts of others. I marvel that the great God of heaven has such patience with those people who criticise every method, who find fault with everybody's failure, and who never in their lives lifted a finger to help souls to Christ — personal interest that can only find fault and blame other people, and that kneels down and prays as a matter of course, but neither has heart, nor earnestness, nor expectation in its prayer. 3. I see another type of character, the man who says, "Well, really, it is very sad indeed." He is a man not given much to weeping; he has a tender heart; he is sharp, definite, exact, likes to have things down in black and white — your typical Englishman. "Come here" he says; "now let us just have it down. You tell me that the walls have been broken down: how many yards of wall will you want? It is a very serious matter; we shall want so many loads of stone; and our gateways? yes, burned with fire; yes, and so many loads of timber. We are practical men. It is very sad. How many men have you got up there? You have got twenty men. We shall want a thousand men to build up that city. It cannot be done; it is no good, it cannot be done." Do not you know that man? It is personal interest stopping short of importunate prayer. 4. I think I see another, who has heard of the condition of the poor, and thinks this is a dreadful city, perhaps can think of nothing else; perhaps, like Nehemiah, he feels that relish for appetite is gone; his tears are falling, and he is haunted by the thought of the homeless and outcast ones and hungry little children — Nehemiah weeping and fasting. God loves hearts that fret because of the sins and sorrows around us. God set such store by men who sighed and cried because of the abominations that He sent an angel down from heaven to put a mark upon their foreheads. Do you know what the angel was doing? I think he was taking their measure for their crowns, it is a great thing in the midst of this London to keep alive a tender heart, and if Christ does not give a man a tender heart I question whether that man knows much about the Lord Jesus Christ. But look! fretting will not mend the evil. Earnest personal interest, passing into importunate prayer, will. Nehemiah got as far as fretting, and then he went to God. That is a grand saying of John Wesley's: "I dare no more fret than I would curse or swear." It would make the fortune of life insurance offices if we could hit upon that happy receipt. He that only frets will do much, but he who cannot fret will not do anything. I think a Christian ought to be a man who frets — frets, mark you, until he gets to God, and gets hold of God sufficiently, and feels: "Great Father in heaven, Thou canst remedy these ills, and Thou writ!" (Mark Guy Pearse.) Parallel Verses KJV: And it came to pass, when I heard these words, that I sat down and wept, and mourned certain days, and fasted, and prayed before the God of heaven, |
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