Quench Not the Spirit
If a party of Arctic explorers, after a long, perilous march through driving snow-storms, were to find themselves under the lee of a rock or an ice-hummock for the night, how carefully would they draw forth the single match or bit of tinder that was to keep them from perishing. All depends on that one match. How they hover round it to protect the first faint flicker from the gale. “Be careful, be c-a-r-e-f-u-l” says the anxious leader, with suspended breath, as he watches the spark light into a little blaze, and the blaze slowly creep up until it takes hold of a dry faggot, and begins to ignite the heap of drift-wood. To put out that flame is suicide. To fan it is the first instinct of self-preservation. And when the seed of fire has grown into a crackling flame, illuminating rock, and ice, and fur-Quench not the Spirit. 6J
clad men with a ruddy glow, they all thank God that no careless hand was permitted to quench the fire on which their lives depended.
This scene illustrates the graphic simile of Paul, “Quench not the Spirit.” It is equivalent to his saying to the sinner, put not out the pre which God’s Spirit is kindling in thy heart. The figure will bear study. In whatever way we look at it we find it full of suggestion and most solemn admonition. Why are inquiring souls to take heed not to “quench the Spirit.”
I. Because the Holy Spirit is the soul’s enlight ener. Put not out the light is the apostle’s tender caution. A sinner’s heart is by nature enveloped in darkness. As absence of light makes darkness, so absence of spiritual knowledge makes ignorance, and absence of godliness makes depravity. This midnight of the heart can only be illuminated by the incoming of the Spirit. It is one of the blessed offices of Him whom “the Father sends to teach you all things,” and to “guide you into all truth.” It is his work to reveal the iniquity of the heart, It is his to show the sinner his besetting sin, and to make
known its exceeding heinousness. It is his, too.
to reveal the way of salvation. As the Alpine traveller at night needs the lantern at his waist to find his way to the hospice, so does the inquirer for salvation need the divine Enlightener to guide his trembling footsteps to Calvary. Put not out the light.
II. The Spirit resembles fire, in the second place, because it melts the flinty heart. A “heart of stone” is the Bible’s description of the stubborn sinner. There is no contrition, no tenderness, no godly love in it. It needs melting. Go into a vast iron-foundry, and witness the extraordinary processes by which fire conquers the solid metal until it consents to be cast, or stamped, or rolled into the form which the artificer desires. This is a type of God’s moral foundry (as seen in a revival of religion), where an obdurate heart is first so softened as to feel the truth; then to weep over sin; then to be ductile and malleable; then so flexible as to be “formed anew” into a shape that pleases the Lord Jesus Christ. This melting process is wrought by the Holy Ghost. Just what the fire accomplishes in the foundry the infinite Spirit of love accomplishes in a convicted soul. As the Holy Spirit alone can melt you into penitence, alone can subdue your stubbornness, and mould you into obedience to God, as he alone can transform your hard, ungrateful deformity into the u beauty of holiness,” we entreat you, awakened friend, quench not the fire.
III. The third office of the Spirit is that of a purifier. Have you ever witnessed the smelting process by which the dross is burnt away and the pure metal is made to flow into the clay receptacle? Then you have witnessed a vivid illustration of the Spirit’s work in sanctification. How the corruption runs away under the blessed action of divine love! How the dross goes off! How the graces burnish into brightness! How the pure gold is eliminated! Oh, ye who yearn for a better life, for conquests over indwelling sin, for the incoming of holiness, as ye love your souls, quench not the Spirit.
IV. One other agency of God’s Spirit we glance at; it is the heating, soul-propelling power. Every heart is more or less frozen by selfishness — more or less torpid to the claims of heavenly benevolence. Now, what is accomplished in the engine-room of an ocean-steamer when a flame is kindled under the dead mass of coal in the furnace, is accomplished in the cold, selfish heart of man, when the divine Spirit brings in the new inspiration of love to Christ. The mass kindles J the soul moves; the powers begin their play the whole man gets in motion; and as long as the fire of holy love burns on in the depths of the soul, so long do men see the steady, triumphant march of a life of. radiant zeal and Christ-like philanthropy. This was the fire from heaven that descended at Pentecost. It was the young Church’s inspiration that propelled it to the spiritual conquest of the globe. Here is the one greatest, sorest, saddest want of our modern Churches. Pulpit and pew need alike the blessed propulsion which God’s Spirit alone can kindle.
Do you not see by this time, my unconverted friend, how much your very life depends on the Spirit’s influence? Already have you felt his power. In all your compunctions for past wasted hours of selfishness and sin — in all your aspirings for a better life — you felt that power. He it was who thrilled you under that solemn discourse in God’s house, until your conscience smote as the reed is smitten under a mighty wind. He startled you on that bed of sickness, when eternity came near and looked you in the face. He melted your heart under the pleading appeal and the touching prayer of that faithful friend, who yearned for your salvation. He came with that affectionate pastor to your fireside, and warned you to flee from the wrath to come. He spake to you out of that hollow tomb that opened for your departed, and bade you prepare to meet your God. A monitor has he been to you: he waits to be a teacher, a comforter, a purifier, a sanctifier of your soul. Dare you grieve him away? Oh, as you value your present peace and your hope of future salvation — as you desire life,, and joy, and glory everlasting — as you would shun the agonies of hell and secure the blessedness of heaven — we entreat you, quench not the Spirit!
Said an old man once to his pastor:” When I was seventeen, I began to feel deeply at times, and this continued for two or three years; but I determined to put it off till I should be settled in life. After I was married, I reflected that the time had come when I had promised jo Quench not the Spirit.
to attend to religion; but I had bought this farm, and I thought it would not suit me to become religious till it was paid for, as some time would have to be devoted to attend church, and also some expense. I then resolved to put it off ten years; but when the ten years came round, I thought no more about it. I often try to think, but I cannot keep my mind on the subject one moment.” I urged him by all the terrors of dying an enemy of God, to set about the work of repentance. “It is too late,” said he; “I believe my doom is sealed; and it is just that it should be so, for the Spirit strove long with me, but I refused.” I then turned to his children, young men and young women, who were around him, and entreated them not to put off the subject of religion, or grieve the Spirit of God in their youthful days. The old man added, “Mind that. If I had attended to it then, it would have been well with me to-day; but now it is too late.”
Alas for him! He had quenched the Spirit. The last ray of light was extinguished, and through the darkness of a spiritual midnight he •oped his way down to his hopeless grave.