Chapter 15
Section 15 of David and His Friends. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. David and His Friends. A Series of Revival Sermons by Lewis Albert Banks.
The Divine Use of Shame. Fill their faces with shame, that they may seek Thy name, O Lord. Psalm 83, verse 16. At first glance, this seems like a hard prayer, but, after all, if you study it, you will see it is very much the same thing that we sing in the hymn which has leaped all over sectarian walls and become the universal cry of Christian hearts in which to voice their sense of need. Nearer, my God, to thee. Nearer to thee. Even though it be a cross that raiseth me, still all my song shall be. Nearer, my God, to thee. Nearer to thee.
We often sing that hymn carelessly, without really taking in its meaning, but multitudes sing it honestly, and with them it is a prayer to God that He will not cast them aside, even though it takes pruning and discipline and the hard whip of defeat and humiliation to save them to Himself. Multitudes of men and women who have been brought to pure lives, and have gone to be very useful in the world, and have gone home to heaven at last, with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads, were brought to the Lord only through the shame and humiliation which came to them because of their sins. The dying thief who was crucified with Christ did not find Jesus while he was free, but only came to him after he had been condemned
to die a shameful death because of his crimes. Jacob, when he went out, an exile from his father's house because of his own wrongdoing, was met by the Lord at Bethel. And God gave him a great vision,
showing him the stairway between earth and heaven with the angels coming and going upon it, and assuring him of his willingness to forgive his sins and be merciful to him and bless him. And the next morning Jacob set up a stone for a pillar and worshipped God
and decided that his life should be in accordance with God's will. But when he got farther away from home and got into business under new surroundings, he was like a great many young men who have come to Cleveland with high purposes and resolves and, amid the hard, unscrupulous experiences of business life, have lost the high ideals which they brought to the city. So Jacob fell into selfish, mean ways,
and it was not until he was on his way back and had camped at Jabbok Ford that the news came that his brother Esau, whom he had wronged, was coming to meet him with a small army of rough riders, and his old sin against Esau stared him in the face, that he, shamed and humiliated, pled with God for forgiveness, and really entered upon a new and holy life. You may see the same lesson in the story of Lot.
Lot had a splendid bringing up in the family of Abraham. He had been trained to be a prayerful and godly man, and had been taught by his uncle, Abraham, both by precept and example, that the first and greatest and most important thing in life was to obey God and please him. But Lot loved money and determined that he would get on and be successful, honestly if he could,
but by outwitting tricky Sodom if he could succeed in no other way. So Lot pitched his tent on the way to Sodom and entered into business relations with the people of that doomed city. The result of it all was that though he was finally saved alive with two of his daughters, it was to remember with a breaking heart his ruined fortunes, his desolate family life, and the failure of everything to which he had set his hand. And it was only through the shame and humiliation of a complete
overthrow that he escaped with his own soul. I read you over again this evening that old, old story of the prodigal of whom Jesus tells us, a story which is, after all, ever new and ever being repeated in the modern life of today. It was shame only that brought the prodigal to his senses. So long as his money lasted, and he had his fast friends about him, he forgot about his father's house. No doubt there were times when his heart was sore and lonesome, and he thought
of the good old father waiting at home, and wondered if he were anxious and worrying. But he drowned all this in drink and revel, and went on until he got to the bottom of his purse. And then, when his money was gone, his fast friends were gone too. They were friends for revenue only, and when he could no longer pay for fine dinners and revels, they had no more use for him. That is the way the devil always treats those who serve him. The man who serves the devil most
devotedly is turned off with the most shame. And it was the prodigal shame that opened his eyes to his folly. Standing there amongst the swine, hungry enough to eat the husks, he remembered his father's house, where there was plenty of food and to spare. Then, shamed and humiliated, but at last awake to wisdom, he started on the homeward journey. He does not look so attractive as he goes along with his head down, every now and then sobbing tearfully, as he used to look
when he went swaggering down the street in his fine clothes with a jolly crowd of revelers about him. But he is a great deal wiser man now than he was then, and the prospect for his peace and happiness has infinitely brightened. Put this down as a central truth, that there is no hope for any man who is sinning against God
until he becomes ashamed of his sin. So long as a man is rather proud of his sin, or is complacent about it, there is no hope for him. That must have been what Jesus meant when he said to those self-righteous Pharisees who were proud of their own outward morality, but were, nevertheless, in their hearts wickedly sinning against God, that the disgraced publicans and harlots would go into the kingdom
of heaven before them. This latter class knew they were sinners. Their sins shamed them and hung about their necks like millstones until they longed for freedom, and the very shame because of their sin would drive them to Christ. I want to call your attention to the fact that this is no hard and cruel law of God which attaches shame to sin. Instead, it is infinitely merciful. The fact that the way of the transgressor is hard, that the sinner's path is full of thorns, that the
sting of remorse is full of agony, is one of the surest indications of God's compassion and tenderness. For in that way, by his warning and rebuke, God seeks to save us from going deeper into sin. It was Peter's shame and humiliation on that night when Jesus was arrested and he had denied his Lord that drove him brokenhearted from the presence of Jesus to cry his heart out in the darkness and seek and obtain forgiveness. There was something in that look which shamed Peter
out of his sinfulness. The record says that on Peter's denying his Lord the third time, the Lord turned and looked upon Peter, and Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said unto him, Before the cock crow, Thou shalt deny me thrice. And Peter went out and wept bitterly. Rev. G. Campbell Morgan of London, commenting on this scene, says that this is one of the things in these gospel stories
that one cannot explain. The look which Christ gave Peter. There in the judgment hall stood the man of sorrows, acquainted with grief, suffering all sorts of indignities. There outside in the distance sat Peter, warming himself at the fire which the world had built, denying his Lord with oaths and curses. The master was in the midst of men who were swearing away his life and stood with the shadow of the cross already upon him. But when he heard the denial of Peter, he turned and looked
at him. There was no theology in that look, but God's heart was in it. There was no resentment in it. The thing that touched the heart of Christ was not the wound that Peter was inflicting upon him, but the harm that Peter was doing to himself. He looked upon Peter, and there was heaven's pity in his look. Heaven's love was in it, and God's heart was in it. No man can tell you what that look was like. We only know something of what that look was, by the illumination of the Spirit,
and by the result which it produced in Peter. Peter remembered the word which Jesus had said. The look brought conviction of the sin and folly, not merely of denying his Lord with oaths and curses, but ever having boasted of his own steadfastness. What a fool he must have felt himself just then. But there was something further and deeper and more blessed than that. The look not only quickened the memory and brought conviction, it brought penitence. It broke his
heart. And he went out and wept bitterly. Ah, can you imagine Peter's shame that night? All his pride, all his sense of self-respect, all his self-consciousness of strong manhood, were overwhelmed in a great shame and humiliation that he had sinned against the most loving heart that ever throbbed in tenderness and fidelity to man. And it was that shame that saved him. It was the way the Lord took to bring him back to God. Though Peter did not know it, when he went out that cold,
dark night, sobbing in his sorrow, he was already on his way back to the joy of conscious forgiveness and the blessed peace which came from communion with Jesus. Now, I have called your attention to these numerous illustrations tonight that God's message might come home to your hearts. Some of you have been sinning against God, and some of your sins have already brought you much sorrow and trouble and shame. I beg of you that you do not allow this fact to harden your heart against
the Lord, as though he had been unkind to you in this, for it is a sure indication of his divine love. God could not do a more cruel thing to you than to let you go on in sin and yet prosper in it and be happy and have peace. How soon that would make a perfect hell of this world. No, indeed, you could not have a sure proof that God loves you and wants to save you than the trouble and discomfort and humiliation and shame which your sin has brought you. There are some others
who hear me who have not yet got to that place. You have sinned against God, and when I bring it home to you, and you are compelled for the moment to face it, you acknowledge that you are a sinner in his sight. There have been times when you have been ashamed of your sins, but your sins have not specially shamed you. Are you going to wait until they do? Or are you going to do the wiser thing, Repent of them now, and give your heart to the Lord at once,
and escape the pain and misery that Peter knew, but which never came to John. I pray God it may be so. The best possible thing you can do is not to undertake to turn away from sin piecemeal. That is unworthy of you and unworthy of the Savior. The most radical change you can make is the easiest and the best.
Edward C. Delavan, the well-known philanthropist and successful businessman, tells how his whole life's course was changed. He had been led into bad company and was on the downward course with other lads. One night it came to him forcibly, if I continue to visit that house, I am ruined. Still, on the ensuing evening, he went forth as usual. He paused on the opposite side of the street. Before him stood the house where his companions were assembled. He struggled for a
few moments against temptation. Suddenly the thought came over him, if I cross the street, I am ruined. Instantly he made the decision, and exclaiming at the top of his voice, right, about face, he turned and, hastening back to his room, threw himself down on his bed, slept soundly throughout the night, and arose with an approving conscience in the morning. He ever after considered the struggle of that evening as the crisis of his life,
and whatever good he accomplished, he traced back to the decision made by him when, resolutely changing his purpose and suiting the action to the word, he exclaimed, Right! About face! It is an interesting fact, and one which illustrates how graciously God deals with men who surrendered themselves completely to do his will, the Delavan lived to buy the block,
in which stood that great liquor saloon from which he turned that night, and directly opposite the spot where he formed that decisive resolution. He tore down the saloon, and erected on the ground occupied by it, and other buildings of like character, which he demolished, a large number of dwellings and stores. And for many years he could, from his desk, look down upon the very spot where he uttered in his boyhood the laconic but decisive sentence,
Right about face. Speaking to a friend a while ago, he said that of the fifty young men from whom he then separated, leaving them to enjoy the pleasures of that eating, drinking, and gambling establishment, forty-four had already gone to destruction. One, a most promising youth, and heir to great wealth, became so destitute and degraded
that he would brush boots at three cents a pair to obtain the means for buying a glass of rum. Some of them came to a most terrible end. One, in a state of intoxication, fell, head foremost, from the pier at Harf France, and became embedded in the mud. The receding tide exposed his sad and dishonored remains to the public view. Others came to an end, if less terrible, scarcely less sad. Young man, heed these words.
Write about face. If everyone here this evening who has not yet come out openly for Christ will heed this appeal, God will bless your decision
and you will not only never regret taking the step, but you will thank God for giving you the courage to take it, not only while you live on earth, but throughout all eternity.
End of section 15
