Spurgeon on Jabez
What history's most prolific preacher said, in 1871, about the
Prayer of Jabez.
by Chris Armstrong
As we have recently been reminded by Bruce Wilkinson's best-
selling book on the subject, Jabez -- a man mentioned only
once in the Bible -- prayed for God to "enlarge his
territory," and God granted his request.
Wilkinson, founder and president of Walk Thru the Bible
Ministries, interprets "territory" as "opportunity for
evangelistic ministry." Arguably, no person in the history of
the church has had a larger "territory" than the 19th-century
British preacher Charles Haddon Spurgeon.
Long before the first megachurch, Spurgeon preached regularly
(often 10 times in a week) to audiences of 6,000 and more. He
once addressed an audience of 23,654, without aid of
amplification. He grew the congregation of his New Park Street
Church from 232 in 1854 to 5,311 in 1892, making it the
largest independent congregation in the world. Prime
Ministers, presidents, and other notables flocked to hear him.
No preacher in the history of the church has been more
prolific: His collected sermons amount to more than 20 million
words -- a number equivalent to the 27 volumes of Encyclopedia
Britannica, 9th edition. Several of his books and collections
have sold over 1 million copies, and his sermons are still
read as models today.
Wouldn't it be interesting if Spurgeon told us what he thought
of the "prayer of Jabez"? Well, indeed he did. In the year
1871, standing before his congregation at the Metropolitan
Tabernacle in London, Spurgeon took as his text 1 Chronicles
4:10: "Now Jabez called on the God of Israel, saying, 'Oh that
You would bless me indeed and enlarge my border, and that Your
hand might be with me, and that You would keep me from harm
that it may not pain me!' And God granted him what he
requested." (NASB)
The contrasts between Spurgeon's sermon and Bruce Wilkinson's
recent blockbuster "book-ette" are instructive.
We'll start with Wilkinson's book. If you haven't read it
already, somebody you know has. The language on the back cover
helps to explain its multi-million copy sales success:
Breathlessly, the blurb copy seeks to draw us in: "Are you
ready ... to ask God for the abundant blessings He longs to
give you?" Just praying Jabez's simple prayer will, the blurb
promises, "release God's favor, power, and protection" and
allow the enterprising Christian to "break through to the life
you were meant to live."
This sort of appeal may sell books, but it courts spiritual
presumptuousness.
Inside, however, there are things to admire. Wilkinson argues
that most Christians have simply not expected enough from the
Creator of the Universe. He encourages his readers to "have
faith in an extraordinary, miraculous God" and "step out to
act on that faith." He stresses that this confidence must be
rooted in total dependence on God, rather than in any strength
of our own. He downplays native ability and talent, insisting
that God uses "ordinary people." And he insists we must pray
for God's agenda.
Where the trouble occurs, and where Spurgeon's 130-year-old
take on Jabez is instructive, is in Wilkinson's one-sided
portrayal of what "God's agenda" -- or in Jabez's words, the
"blessing indeed" -- might look like. On this score, we never
get very far from the sales-motivational hype of the back
cover. Throughout the book, Wilkinson continues to talk about
the Christian life in terms of "unclaimed blessings," like
money in a forgotten account just waiting to be collected by
the person bold enough to step up and ask for it.
Granted, this is not the prosperity gospel of recent decades.
Wilkinson ties "blessing indeed" to greater effectiveness in
ministry. The deal is, you pray for God to "enlarge your life"
so that you can, in turn, "make a greater impact for Him."
Then, "as your [ministry] opportunities expand, your ability
and resources supernaturally increase, too."
And granted, Wilkinson encourages his readers to "let God work
in your life regardless of what He chooses," as "it will
always be for your best."
But there is no hint in this book that that "best" might
sometimes seem less than a blessing to our human eyes. We are
to expect clear sailing, as long as we don't sin and depart
from "God's agenda." This is a feel-good message. Wilkinson
assures his readers, "if you're like many who use the Jabez
prayer ... you'll come to times in your life when you feel
so blessed that you stop praying for more, at least for a
while."
What about those times when our prayers seem to hit a brass
sky, or we struggle with pain, disappointment, or grief? We
get no hint in this book that such times exist for people who
"use" this bold prayer of Jabez. Spurgeon, though, had every
reason to know that they did. For he was a man who experienced
not only great "enlargement of territory," but great suffering
as well.
Throughout Spurgeon's life, he experienced bouts of
depression. He also endured gout, kidney inflammation, and
other illnesses that laid him out, incapacitated and in
excruciating pain, for weeks and even months at a time. Thus
when he came to meditate on the fact that Jabez was named for
the exceptional pain his birth had caused his mother (1 Chron.
4:9), he counseled, "To a great extent we find that we must
sow in tears before we can reap in joy.... You may expect a
blessing in serving God if you are enabled to persevere under
many discouragements."
Wilkinson's brand of evangelical activism requires a
pragmatic, business-like approach to the Christian life. It
regards interruption -- any suffering or delay -- as intolerable.
Indeed, Wilkinson writes: "Do you believe that a supernatural
God is going to show up to keep you from evil...? Jabez did
believe, and he acted on his belief. Thereafter his life was
spared from the grief and pain that evil brings."
Spurgeon's approach to the Christian life, on the other hand,
leaves room for pain and delay. Focusing as he did on the
formation of Christian character and on intimacy with God in
Christ, Spurgeon could tolerate and even welcome suffering. As
he thought about what Jabez might have meant by "blessing
indeed," he reminisced on his own life: "I have oftentimes
looked gratefully back to my sick chamber. I am certain that I
never did grow in grace one half so much anywhere as I have
upon the bed of pain." In light of his own experience of
growth through suffering, Spurgeon could affirm that pain may
bring the greatest possible blessing -- eternal fellowship
with a loving Christ.
This does not mean, Spurgeon added, that we should all pray
for pain. Not everyone needs this kind of discipline. Indeed
it "ought not to be so" that any of us need it. "Our joyous
mercies ought to be great fertilizers to our spirit." But
given the lingering effects of sin in us, "not unfrequently
our griefs are more salutary than our joys. The pruning knife
is best for some of us," and in the end "this light affliction
may work out for you a far more exceeding and eternal weight
of glory," a "blessing indeed."
For Wilkinson, sin appears as a temporary interruption,
requiring nothing more than a hurried reconciliation before
the joyous flow of blessing continues. "When you sin after
experiencing the Jabez blessing" you should "rush back into
God's presence and make things right.... Don't squander even
for a minute the miracle that He has started in your life.
Indescribable good still lies ahead for you and your family."
Spurgeon, on the other hand, knew that sin is much, much
deeper than individual temptations and actions that can be
patched up by a single, perfunctory reconciliation. Its deep
wound sometimes requires protracted surgery. So he encouraged
those who experienced "dark nights of the soul" -- nights that
have no place in Wilkinson's scheme -- with these words:
"Though the harrow go over and over thy soul, and the deep
plough cut into thy very heart; though thou be maimed and
wounded, and left for dead, yet if the Spirit of God do it, it
is a blessing indeed."
This, though it will not sell millions of books as back-cover
blurb copy, is a message with depth and staying power. Sorrow
can strengthen faith. Affliction can be, as Spurgeon elsewhere
put it, "the best book in a minister's library." But 130 years
of middle-class prosperity later, it seems millions of
American Christians prefer instead to buy a book that
downplays such godly sorrow. |
