Sermon I: The Good Man's Peace

In these words we see the sad discouragements of a gracious spirit, along with the remedies applied against them. The discouragements are expressed in two words, under two comparisons: cast down, and disquieted. As a man is bowed down under the weight of some heavy burden, so David says, "You are cast down, O my soul"; and as the sea is disturbed in a storm, so he says, "You are disquieted within me, O my soul."

The remedies he uses against these discouragements are two: self-reproof and self-admonition. First, he chides himself for his diffidence and distrust in God: "Why art thou cast down, O my soul; and why art thou disquieted within me?" Second, he admonishes and calls upon himself to wait on and hope in God: "Hope thou in God." And why? First, because he will yet be delivered: "For I shall yet praise him." Second, because salvation belongs to God alone: "He is the health of my countenance" — or, the salvation of my countenance. Third, because God is in covenant with him, and he with God; God is his own God: "the health of my countenance, and my God."

I will begin with the first part of this verse, in which we may observe three things:

First, that there is an inward peace and quietness of soul which the saints and people of God ordinarily possess. This is implied.

Second, that this peace can be interrupted, so far that God's people may be greatly discouraged, cast down, and disquieted.

Third, that the saints and people of God have no real reason for their discouragements, whatever their condition may be. "Why art thou cast down, and why art thou thus disquieted within me?" You have no reason for it.

This last point is the main one, and the one I especially aim at. But since the first two will lay a better foundation for it, and are themselves profitable to consider, I will take them in order, and speak only to the first one today, which is this:

There is an inward peace and quietness of soul which the saints and people of God ordinarily possess.

So David says here, "Why art thou cast down, and why art thou disquieted within me?" This makes clear that such discouragement was not his ordinary condition — his pulse did not always run this high; ordinarily he had peace and quiet within. So I say again: there is an inward peace and quietness of soul which the saints and people of God ordinarily possess.

Ordinarily they are arrayed in white. So they are described in Revelation 7:13–14: "What are these which are arrayed in white robes?" — "These are they which have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." The book of Revelation draws much on Jewish customs, and among the Jews there was a mourning garment and a rejoicing garment. The mourning garment was black; so when a man was shown in mourning, he was shown clothed in black, as in the next psalm, the forty-third, at the second verse: "Why go ye in black, because of the oppression of the enemy?" — the Hebrew word there is literally "black." So the mourning garment was the black garment, and the black garment was the mourning garment. And the white garment was the rejoicing garment; therefore Ecclesiastes 9:8 says, "Let thy garments be always white, and let thy head lack no ointment." On this account the nobles among the Hebrews were called, literally, "those clothed in white"; and Ecclesiastes 10:17 says, "Blessed art thou, O land, when thy king is the son of nobles" — in the Hebrew, literally, "a son of those in white."

I grant that this phrase sometimes points to the purity and holiness of a person, as in Revelation 3:4: "Thou hast a few names even in Sardis, which have not defiled their garments, and they shall walk with me in white, for they are worthy." But ordinarily it points to the joy and comfort of our state; so in Revelation 7 the saints are shown in white, not only for their purity, but for their rejoicing. I say, then, that ordinarily the saints and people of God go in white — they have peace and rest within. "Great peace have they that love thy law," says the psalmist, "and nothing shall offend them." And Romans 2:10: "Glory, honour, and peace to every man that worketh good, to the Jew first, and also to the Gentile." Whoever he is, if he is godly, if he does what is good, glory, honour, and peace will be his — not only an outward peace, but an inward one as well.

And indeed, how could it be otherwise? For the saints and people of God walk with God; they converse with him; they make him their acquaintance. Look into Job 22:21, and you will find that this acquaintance brings rest and peace: "Acquaint now thyself with him, and be at peace." The saints and people of God are, so to speak, of God's own special acquaintance, and so they have peace, for they walk with him and have communion with him. They have communion with the Father, and he is the God of all consolation. They have communion and fellowship with the Son, and he is the Prince of Peace. They have communion and fellowship with the Spirit, and he is the Comforter. They have communion with the Father, the Son, and the Spirit, in and through the gospel — and that is the word of peace, the gospel of peace. How, then, could it be otherwise than that the saints and people of God should ordinarily have peace within?

But to make this fuller for you, consider how the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit — with whom the saints and people of God have this communion and fellowship — are each engaged to secure their peace.

1. The Father is engaged to give peace to them — engaged by his prerogative, by his commandment, by his promise, by Christ's purchase, and by the very chastisements his saints receive.

He is engaged by his prerogative. Kings and princes, as you know, guard their prerogatives closely. And this is the great prerogative of God the Father: to give peace, inward peace. "I create the fruit of the lips: peace, peace" (Isaiah 57:19). He is called the God of peace, the God of consolation — not the God of indignation, not the God of war, but the God of peace. This is the great prerogative of God the Father, to give peace to his people.

He is engaged also by virtue of his commandment. Look into Isaiah 40:1–2, and you will find that he commands the prophets and ministers to preach comfort: "Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God" (verse 1); "speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned, for she hath received of the LORD's hand double for all her sins." Suppose a man's affliction or temptation is very great — God has commanded us to comfort him, and to comfort him twice over: "Comfort ye, comfort ye," not once but twice, "comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God." But there are all kinds of comforters who are really like Job's friends — they speak hard words to poor, distressed souls. So he says further, in verse 2, "speak ye comfortably" — though in the Hebrew it is literally "speak to the heart": speak soft and tender words, speak to the heart of Jerusalem.

But, you may say, my temptation is so great that I cannot bear to hear those who come to comfort me. Then mark what follows: speak to the heart of Jerusalem, and cry to her — lift up your voice and cry. If a poor soul is so distressed and tempted that she cannot easily hear, then you who are ministers must lift up your voice and cry — not only speak to the heart, but cry aloud to her. And what are they to speak and cry? There are three things that will comfort a poor, distressed soul, and they must be spoken. First, "that her warfare is accomplished" — her affliction and temptation are at an end; they shall be no more. Second, "that her iniquity is pardoned" — her sin is forgiven fully and freely. Third, "that she hath received of the LORD's hand double for all her sins" — God has nothing more against her, no quarrel, no controversy, no further punishment to inflict; she has borne the punishment of her iniquity in full. So the Lord has commanded his ministers to preach peace and to preach comfort — and what God has commanded us to speak, he has committed himself to accomplish. So I say, the Father is engaged by virtue of his commandment.

He is engaged also by virtue of his promise. Look into Psalm 29, and see what the Lord has promised — verse 11: "The LORD will give strength unto his people; the LORD will bless his people with peace." There is the promise: "The LORD will bless his people with peace." And if you look into Isaiah 26, you will find that the Lord has promised to keep the peace of his people for them — verse 3: "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee." So it reads in our version; but according to the Hebrew it should be read: "Thou wilt keep peace, peace" — peace twice over, for him whose mind is stayed on you. So the Lord is not only engaged to give peace to his people, but by promise he is also engaged to keep their peace for them.

The Lord is engaged also by purchase. Christ has purchased peace for his people, and what Christ has purchased for them, God the Father is engaged to give them. Read of this purchase in Ephesians 2:13–14: "But now in Christ Jesus, ye who sometimes were far off are made nigh by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace, who hath made both one, and hath broken down the middle wall of partition between us; having abolished in his flesh the enmity, even the law of commandments, for to make in himself of twain one new man, so making peace." And verse 16: "And that he might reconcile both unto God in one body by the cross, having slain the enmity thereby; and came and preached peace to you which were afar off, and to them that were nigh." So you see it is the purchase of Jesus Christ — this inward peace and quietness of soul is Christ's own purchase, and what the Son has purchased, God the Father is engaged to give.

The Father is engaged to give peace to his people also by all the chastisements they endure. So in Isaiah 40, already mentioned, the Lord commands us to comfort his people on this very ground: "for she hath received of the LORD's hand double for all her sins" — because a full measure of chastisement had already come upon them. So, I say, God the Father — by virtue of his prerogative, his commandment, his promise, Christ's purchase, and the chastisements laid upon his people — is engaged to give peace to his children.

2. Now go a little further, and you will see that as the Father is engaged, so the Son also is engaged to give peace — inward peace and quietness of soul — to his servants.

He is engaged by the qualifications and gifts he received from God his Father for this very purpose. In Isaiah 61 he says, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me... and he hath anointed me" — why? "That I might comfort those that mourn." That is one purpose. But look also into Isaiah 50, at the fourth verse: "The Lord GOD hath given me the tongue of the learned, that I should know how to speak a word in season to him that is weary: he wakeneth morning by morning, he wakeneth mine ear to hear as the learned." These are plainly the words of Christ, as the verses that follow make clear: "The Lord GOD hath opened mine ear, and I was not rebellious, neither turned away back. I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair: I hid not my face from shame and spitting." So these are indeed the words of Christ.

What, then, does Christ say here? He tells us that he received the tongue of the learned in order to comfort those who are distressed and troubled in conscience, to help poor, weary souls. Why does he call it the tongue of the learned? All men long to hear the learned — and it is the greatest kind of learning in the world to speak a timely word of comfort to those who are weary. This is the highest piece of ministerial learning, and Christ says, "He hath given me the tongue of the learned." But not all learned men have the wisdom to speak at the right time — mark what follows: "that I should know how to speak a word in season to him that is weary."

But does Jesus Christ truly have such skill in comforting the troubled? Yes — "he wakeneth morning by morning." As a teacher rises early to instruct his students, so God the Father has been teaching Christ this great skill from all eternity: "morning by morning he wakeneth, morning by morning he wakeneth mine ear to hear as the learned." This, says Christ, is the learning I have received morning by morning from my Father from eternity, and this is the great skill he has attained. So, by virtue of this gift received from the Father, he is engaged to give peace to his people — for he received the tongue of the learned for this very purpose: that he might speak a timely word to those who are weary.

He is engaged also by his own disposition — his sweet, loving, and tender nature. He is indeed a lion of the tribe of Judah, but not that roaring lion seeking to devour. He is indeed a king, but he comes meekly, riding on a donkey's colt: "he doth not lift up his voice in the streets." When our Lord and Savior left the world, he said to his disciples, "My peace I give unto you; my peace I leave with you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you" (John 14:27). And as soon as Christ rose from the dead and met his disciples again, what did he say to them, gathered all together? "Peace be unto you" (John 20:19). As peace was his last word when he left them, so it was the first word he used on seeing them again.

But, Lord, we have sinned greatly since we saw you last. Be it so — still, "peace be unto you." But, Lord, here is Peter among us, who denied you since you last saw us. Be it so, I know it well — still, "peace be unto you." Peace when he went away, and peace when he came again: this is his language, and this is his disposition still. So he is engaged.

He is engaged also by office to give peace to his people. You know the apostle calls him our great High Priest. It was the work of the high priest in the Old Testament to bless the people, and when he blessed them, what did he say but, "The LORD bless thee, and give thee peace"? If, then, Jesus Christ is our great High Priest, and it is the office of the high priest to bless and to give peace, then Christ, by virtue of his office too, is engaged to give peace to his people. Take all three together — Christ, the second Person, is engaged by the gifts he received from the Father, by his own disposition, and by his office — and it is plain that there is a great engagement upon Jesus Christ to give peace to his servants.

3. As the Father and the Son are engaged to give peace and quietness to the saints and people of God, so also is the Spirit, the Holy Ghost, engaged to give them peace. For, if I may put it reverently, he is, as it were, the great executor of Jesus Christ. When Christ died, he made his will and left a legacy to his disciples — "My peace I give unto you" — and then sent the Comforter, the Spirit, from heaven for the very purpose of producing that peace within their souls.

The Holy Spirit is not only this executor, seeing Christ's will fulfilled, but he is also, as it were, our advocate. We have, strictly speaking, but one Advocate, Christ himself — yet in another sense we have two advocates, one in heaven above and one in our own hearts. When a godly man sins, Satan accuses him in heaven, and so John says, "If any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous" (1 John 2:1). But when a godly man sins, Satan also accuses him to himself — and so the apostle says that the Spirit within us makes intercession. And our Savior says, "I will send another Comforter" (John 14:16) — so it is usually read, but the very word translated "Comforter" is elsewhere translated "Advocate": "I will send you another Advocate." And the Spirit of the Lord is our witness too: "the Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God." When the Spirit bears witness with a man's own spirit that he is a child of God, then he has peace and quiet.

So, if you consider all these engagements together — the Father engaged, the Son engaged, the Holy Spirit engaged — all for the peace and quiet of God's children, must you not conclude this doctrine, and say: surely there is an inward peace and quietness of soul which the saints and people of God ordinarily possess?

But experience seems to say the opposite — for many of God's own people do not have peace and quiet within, but are full of doubts and fears about their eternal condition.

The second point speaks to just this: it is indeed possible for this peace to be interrupted.

But, someone may say, some have never had peace all their days at all. "I have been afflicted and troubled a long while," one might say — "two years, four years, six years — and I have never yet had peace and quiet within me. So either this doctrine is not true, or else I am not godly."

All that you describe may be true, and yet this doctrine may still be true. General rules always have some exceptions. Though the garment the saints ordinarily wear is white, here and there some go in black, and do so for a long while. But so that no one stumbles over this, let me offer a few distinctions to consider.

1. You must understand that there is a foundational peace which the saints and people of God have, and there is an additional peace besides. The foundational peace arises naturally out of their justification: "Being justified by faith, we have peace with God" (Romans 5:1). The additional peace arises from their sense, or felt awareness, of that justification. A child of God may lose the second for a long time, but he will never lose the first. It is like a woman with a great inheritance who travels abroad and is robbed of all the ready money she carries — yet she says, though they have taken my spending money, they cannot take my inheritance; I have not lost that. So the saints may sometimes lose their spending money, so to speak — the peace that comes from a felt sense of their justification — but the peace that flows from their justification itself, the first and foundational peace, they will never lose. Peace is the church's inheritance, and that peace they will never lose.

2. You must understand that there is a real difference between peace, comfort, and joy. A man may have peace without much comfort; he may have comfort without much joy — each is a further degree beyond the other. It may be daylight without the sun shining fully; the sun may shine, and yet it not be noon. So a man may have peace, resting simply on God, without much comfort; he may have comfort without much joy. But many a poor soul thinks that because he has no joy, he must have no comfort — and because he has little comfort, he must have no peace. Labor to know the difference between these.

3. You must understand that there is a peace measured against what one used to be, and a peace measured against what one wishes to become. A godly but weak Christian, considering what he wishes he were and what he wishes he had, may find no rest or quiet in that. But come to the same man and say: remember the wicked life you once led — you were a drunkard, or a loose liver — would you be in that condition again? "Oh, no," he says, "I would not be in that condition for all the world." Here the soul has peace measured against what it used to be, even though it has no peace measured against what it wishes to become.

4. You must understand that there is a hidden, dormant peace, and there is a wakened, visible peace — peace in the seed, and peace in the flower. It is much like a wicked man who, for the present, has great comfort; but when affliction comes, and the day of death comes, then he has trouble — trouble over his sin. Why? Because the sin and the guilt were in his heart all along, only lying asleep there, and now they have risen. So it is with a godly man regarding his peace: for the present he may be full of trouble, but when affliction comes, and the hour of death comes, then he has peace and comfort. Why? Because it was there all along, at the bottom, only he was not aware of it.

Ask such a fearful, weak Christian: you see a drunkard, a blasphemer, a loose liver — would you be content to be in that man's condition? "Oh, no," he says, "I would not be in such a condition for all the world." And why does he say so, if not because there is a peace and quietness at the bottom, though he is not aware of it? It is true the saints grieve, but they grieve and yet rejoice in their grieving — they are troubled over sin, and yet they find rest and quiet in this: that they can be troubled over their sin. They have no peace in their sin, but they have peace in this, that they can have no peace in their sin. Ask them: are you troubled that you are troubled? Are you grieved that you are grieved over sin? "No," they will say, "I am glad that I am grieved for sin — and the Lord knows, my trouble is that I cannot be grieved for it more. I have quiet and peace in the very fact that I am troubled."

Some have peace in the direct act, and some in the reflex act on it — some have it more immediately, and some more at second hand. But weigh all these distinctions, and you will find that there is no godly man who does not, in some measure and in some one of these respects, have peace within. But suppose all this is so — what does this doctrine lead to? What is its point?

The point of all this is simply this: behold what a blessed condition the saints and people of God are in! Is it not a blessed thing to have peace within — to have quiet, peace, and rest within? If you have peace within, even lacking peace without, you will be able to bear all your burdens: "The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmities" (Proverbs 18:14). But a wounded spirit, who can bear that? Some can bear fevers, some can bear kidney stones and colic and racking pain — but a wounded spirit, who can bear it? Yet "the spirit of a man will sustain his infirmities" if he has peace within — if he is, as they say, heart-whole. If he has peace within, he will be able to bear all his burdens.

You see what times we have fallen into — we cannot promise ourselves a single day of peace; a cloud may arise overnight and lay all our comforts in the dark. How good a thing it is, then, to have peace within, to have rest and quiet within! If I have peace within, I can find relief here against every calamity. What if I have trouble from my friends? I still have peace within. What if I am reproached like this? I still have peace within. My garment may be wet, but I am not soaked to the skin — I am dry within; I have peace within. "Blessed," says our Savior, "are those that mourn, for they shall be comforted" (Matthew 5:4).

If those who will yet be comforted are blessed even now, how much more blessed are those who are comforted already, and who already have peace and quiet!

This doctrine looks earnestly on both the ungodly and the godly. It once looked so earnestly on a great nobleman that it became the very beginning of his conversion — I mean Galeazzo Caracciolo, Marquis of Vico. He was a papist and a worldly man, and, coming by chance to hear Peter Martyr preach, he heard this comparison: when you see men at a distance skipping, leaping, and dancing, you think them mad; but when you draw near and hear what music they are dancing to, you no longer wonder at them — you rather wonder at yourself for having wondered. So, said Peter Martyr, when you look at the godly from a distance and see them pursuing the ordinances of God, attending the means of grace, and rejoicing in his ways, you think them mad, and call them so. But if you draw near to a godly life and perceive what music these people have within, you will no longer call them mad — you will wonder at yourself instead, for ever having thought so. Hearing this comparison, the marquis was so struck by it that he began to examine his own condition, and this became the first occasion of his conversion.

I say no more. You who are ungodly — you hear what music the saints have within: peace and quiet, ordinarily theirs, though here and there some exception may be found. Still, ordinarily, what music they have within! Oh, who would not wish to be godly!

But this doctrine also looks earnestly on you who are godly, and calls for your thankfulness — that you should praise the Lord for the peace and quiet you have. You would praise God for outward peace, especially peace after war — especially a civil war, whose pain you had felt — and then you would surely praise God for peace. You who are godly, and have peace, have had a war within, a civil war in your own hearts, and you have felt the pain of a troubled conscience; and now you have peace. Will you not be thankful? Will you not praise the Lord who has given you this peace and rest?

I confess, someone may say, it is indeed the duty of all who have rest and peace within to be very thankful. But one thing keeps me from thankfulness, and keeps me from praising the Lord for the peace I have — I fear my peace is not real. There are many who have a counterfeit and false peace, and I fear mine is of that kind; so I cannot praise the Lord for it, or be thankful.

I grant that there is a false, counterfeit peace that wicked men have — even an inward one. Look into Deuteronomy 29:19, and you will read as much: "And it come to pass, when he heareth the words of this curse, that he bless himself in his heart, saying, I shall have peace, though I walk in the imagination of mine heart, to add drunkenness to thirst." So a man may be on the most cursed path, adding drunkenness to thirst, and yet have a kind of peace, telling himself it will go well with him. There is, without question, a peace of mere security — a peace of sleep, as well as a peace of health. A wounded man, full of aches and pains, does not feel them while asleep; but the reason is not that he is healthy, but that he is asleep. So a man may be free from the trouble of his inward aches, either because he is truly well, or merely because he is asleep to them.

But there is also a peace that is the fruit of the Holy Spirit, as you read in Galatians 5:22, "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace." There is, without question, a false peace and a true peace. But shall I say that all my money is counterfeit, just because there is counterfeit gold in circulation?

To help a little here, let me say something of the difference between true and false peace — briefly, like this:

True, saving peace is the child of grace, and in turn the mother of grace. There is a peace that arises from perceiving God's common goodness — a common peace. And there is a special peace that arises from perceiving God's special favor and free grace; true peace is the daughter of that grace, yet it also becomes the parent — or better, the nurse — of inherent grace and gracious actions. For the apostle says, "The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep" — or guard — "your hearts and minds" (Philippians 4:7). This saving peace stands guard over all our graces. As false peace guards our sins, true peace guards all our graces.

True, saving peace is a peace worked by faith: "Being justified by faith, we have peace" (Romans 5:1); "the Lord give you peace in believing," says the apostle. It comes by way of faith — true, saving peace is worked by faith. False peace, by contrast, is either a peace we were simply born with and that has never been disturbed, the mere offspring of nature; or it springs from an unawakened conscience; or it is a peace simply worked out by time, as time wears trouble away.

True, saving peace can live in the very sight of sin. False peace cannot endure the sight of sin. A godly man, the more he sees his sin — unless he is under some particular temptation — the more peace he has; a wicked man, the more he sees his sin, the less peace he has, for all his peace comes from not seeing his sin at all.

True, saving peace loves to be examined; it is willing to be tested and tried. False peace cannot endure examination — it flees from the light and does not love to be tested.

True, saving peace is spoken by God himself. "I will hear what God the LORD will speak, for he will speak peace," says the psalmist (Psalm 85:8). When God speaks peace, he speaks it to a soul under, or just after, temptation. When God speaks peace, he speaks it with a strong hand, giving a peace no creature in the world is able to give. When God speaks peace, it is a peace beyond all expression — the peace of God that passes all understanding cannot fully be put into words. Now, though a wicked man may have peace, even much peace and quiet within, God does not speak that peace to him — it was not spoken to him under or after temptation, nor by a strong, irresistible hand. It is a peace that could as easily be produced simply by time wearing off the trouble, or by the world's own pleasures and comforts. It is not a peace beyond all expression, beyond all understanding, but a shallow peace you could put into words easily enough.

But you who are godly, who raise this objection and carry this fear and scruple in your hearts — let me appeal to your own souls. You remember your former trouble; now you have peace and rest within. I ask you: when you were in that trouble, if I, or another minister, or ten ministers of your own choosing, or a hundred, had come to you with promise after promise, would we have been able to speak comfort to you? No — if the Lord himself had not spoken comfort to you, it would not have been in the power of every minister in the world to speak comfort to your soul. But the Lord has certainly done it.

Yet I appeal to you further: are you not willing to have your peace examined? Are you not willing to have your inward peace tried? "Yes," you say, "with all my soul I would have my peace tried — indeed, I could not hope my peace were real if I were unwilling to have it examined." Very well, then, I appeal to you still further: do you not find that you have peace even when you see your own sins most clearly — and that the more you see your sins laid upon Christ's back, the more peace you have? Yes. And do you not find that your peace came to you by way of believing — from a sight of Christ, from laying hold of the promise, from a view of free grace? Yes, you must say so: had you not had a promise to rest your soul on, had you not seen free grace, had you not seen the Lord Jesus, you would never have had any peace in your poor soul. But the Lord knows that this is how you came by your peace.

Then, man or woman, be of good comfort — I tell you from the Lord, your peace and quiet is real. I know the danger of sewing pillows under men's elbows, of speaking peace where none should be spoken. But I say, if this is truly how it is with your soul, notwithstanding all your sins and fears, then from the Lord I say to you: your peace is real. Go in peace, and may the God of peace crush Satan under your feet.

But, someone may still say, I fear my peace is not real, because it does not last — it does not continue.

The second point answers this very objection — for it teaches that a godly man's peace can indeed be interrupted.

But one thing still troubles me, and makes me fear my peace and quiet is not genuine: I came by it so lightly and easily. I see how it has been, and still is, with others among God's people — some have been long afflicted and wounded, troubled for a great while, and so came to their peace. But it was not so with me; I came by my peace lightly and easily, and so I fear the Lord has never truly spoken peace to my soul at all.

You say "lightly" — but how lightly? Did you steal your peace? Or did others buy theirs? You say others have been greatly afflicted and troubled, and paid a great deal of heartache for it. But tell me: did those who went through all that trouble actually purchase or buy their peace from Christ with all their suffering? Or did Christ give them that peace and comfort freely? Buy it! No, certainly not — they never purchased it, never bought it; Christ gave it to them freely. Well then, if Christ gave it to them freely after much trouble, why may he not give it to you after less trouble?

You have read, as I have, the parable in the Gospel of the two who came into the vineyard to work — one at the start of the day, who bore the heat of the day, and one who came at the very end of the day; and both received a penny. When they were paid, the one who had worked from the start of the day complained, saying, "I have been here all day and borne the heat of the day, and I have only a penny — and the one who came at the very end has a penny too, just as I do!" The man who worked from the start complained; but the one who came at the end did not complain, or say, "Surely my penny is worthless, since I was given the same as the one who bore the heat of the day." If anyone had reason to complain, it would be those who bore the heat of the day, who suffered so much. But has the Lord taken you and given you the very same penny — the very same peace — as the one who bore the heat of the day? And will you complain, and say your penny must be counterfeit, your peace worthless, because you have not borne or endured as much trouble as another has?

You know that some children are born into the world with more pain than others, some with less. Should the child born with less pain say, "I must not be a true child, because I was not born with as much pain as the other"? When Christ is formed in the souls of men and women, some are born again with more pain, some with less. Should the one born with less pain say, "I am not a true son, because there was not as much pain at my new birth as at his"? You know how it was with Zacchaeus: Christ came to his house, and that very same day said to him, "This day is salvation come to this house." Zacchaeus had assurance the very first day. But Paul was converted and lay troubled, blind, for three days. Should Zacchaeus then say, "Surely I am not truly converted, since I never lay blind for three days, nor was as troubled as Paul was"? Certainly not — and no more may you say your peace is false because you have not suffered as much trouble as others have. You must not make someone else's experience your rule; God deals with his people in various ways, both in regard to peace and in regard to grace.

So I say to you: look to the peace itself. Do you have peace and quietness of soul? Then bless and praise the Lord for that peace of yours. Do not only praise the Lord for your peace and quiet, but praise him that you came by it so sweetly, in a way of free grace. And if you are to be troubled about anything, let it be this: that you would give the grace of God a bad name, and call it small or false. Christ calls it free, and you call it false. Oh, be humbled for this, and praise the Lord for whatever measure of quiet and peace he has given you.

But, another may say, none of this fits my case — for I have no peace or quiet of soul at all to be thankful for. Some indeed have peace and quiet, and should certainly be thankful for it; but my poor soul has been long afflicted and troubled, and I have never yet had assurance of God's love in Christ. I do not have this peace and quiet within. What should I do to attain it? What should a poor soul do, to get and attain this peace and quiet within?

You know what the psalmist says: "I will hear what God the LORD will speak, for he will speak peace unto his people" (Psalm 85:8). It is not in my power, or in the power of any mere creature, to speak peace to you — it is the Lord alone who must speak peace to your soul. And the Lord speaks peace ordinarily through the means he has appointed.

But what does the Lord say? What does he speak from his word, through those appointed means, so that I, who have never yet found settledness, might attain this inward peace and quietness of soul?

1. He wills you to study and dwell much on the death, the sufferings, and the full satisfaction made by Jesus Christ. Go down into the grave of Christ. Christ's blood is the object of faith, and faith brings peace; unbelief is a tormenting sin, and faith is an easing, quieting grace. "Being justified by faith, we have peace" (Romans 5:1). The more you see the free, infinite love of God, the more your heart will be at rest and quiet within. And where can you see the love of God but in the death of Christ? Seeing Christ on the cross, you see divine love in triumph. All true peace within arises from seeing the peace made without — and where can you read of that but in Christ's death? So the prophet says, "the chastisement of our peace was upon him."

In Psalm 41 there is a promise of great blessing to the one who considers the poor: "Blessed is he that considereth the poor." Who is this poor man? Tarnovius tells us, from verse 10, that it is Christ in his sufferings — for, as he observes, this whole psalm is a psalm of Christ, since verse 9 says, "Yea, mine own familiar friend, in whom I trusted, which did eat of my bread, hath lifted up his heel against me" — plainly the words of Christ, spoken in his own voice. And this "poor man" to be considered is Christ in his sufferings. I will not argue the point further here, but if it is true, the Lord promises a blessing to the one who wisely considers the death and sufferings of Christ. And what does that blessing consist of? "The LORD will deliver him in time of trouble" — literally, "in the evil day," or "the day of evil," as the Chaldee paraphrase has it; "in the day of vexation," says Symmachus. Now the day of temptation, doubt, and great fear is indeed an evil day, a day of vexation — and this is the very day from which God will deliver the one who wisely ponders the death of Christ. Could we see the heart of Christ, we would doubt no more; in his death you may see his heart, in his blood you may see his heart. You know what the prophet Isaiah says: "LORD, wilt thou not ordain peace for us, for thou also hast wrought all our works in us?" And where will you find that God has wrought all our works for us, but in Christ's grave and death?

2. You must not only go to the grave of Christ and study his death, but you must go to Christ himself for peace. He is the great peacemaker, commissioned to settle every dispute, both outside us and within us. You know his words: "The Lord GOD hath given me the tongue of the learned, that I should know how to speak a word in season to him that is weary." Go, then, to Christ, and press this very engagement upon him. Say: Lord, you received the tongue of the learned precisely so that you might speak a timely word to the weary. And, Lord, I am one of those weary souls — wearied with my temptations, wearied with inward trouble. Now, Lord, speak a timely word to this poor, wounded, weary soul. This is how you go to Christ.

Only, in your approach to Christ, be sure you come in uprightness. Take care that you do not desire peace merely for its own comfort, but as a help to your growth in grace: "He will give grace and glory, and no good thing will he withhold from him that walketh uprightly." Good men seek peace for grace's sake; wicked men and hypocrites seek grace for peace's sake. When you come to Christ for peace, be sure you come in uprightness, and take care that you do not desire peace only for its comfort, but as a help to your grace.

And when you go to Christ for peace, carry a promise with you — go by way of a promise. Go and wait long on Christ; wait on him alone, and keep his way. Some say they wait on God, but they do not keep his way — they abandon their duty the moment comfort does not come at once. But in your approach to Christ, go and wait long on him; and if peace and comfort do not come right away, set aside for a while that great question of whether you are truly in Christ, whether you are truly a child of God. The great trouble is this: "I am afraid I am not a child of God — if only I knew that I was, I would have peace." If peace and comfort do not come at once, set that question aside for now; in due time Christ will answer it too. For the present, simply wait on him and keep his way.

But someone will say: should we not be humbled for the sin we have committed? Is humiliation not a good means of finding peace within? Yes — but in all your humbling, carry Christ along with you. When you go to mourn over sin, begin above, with Christ, and do not always think you must begin below, with sin, and work your way up to Christ. Begin with Christ, and let your humbling fall down from him onto your sin. You may say, "But I would rather be humbled first, before I go to Christ." But tell me: can you be humbled without seeing your sin? And where can you get such a clear view of sin as in the death of Christ? Is there anything in the world that shows you the misery, the ugliness, the damning nature of sin as the death of Christ does? If you begin with Christ, you will certainly come down to your sin and be humbled for it. But if you begin with sin, you will not certainly come up to Christ.

Many a poor soul has said, "I will be humbled for my sin first, and then I will go to Christ" — but has stuck so long in that legal labor that he has never come to Christ at all. And if you are humbled before you come to Christ, you will find little real peace or comfort in your humbling. But if you come to Christ first, and then carry him with you into your humbling, you will find much comfort and peace in it. So, if you want to be humbled in a way that brings peace, be sure of this: carry Christ with you into that work. Do not always begin with sin in order to climb up to Christ — begin instead with Christ, and let your humbling fall down from him onto your sin.

Labor to put to death your unruly affections, and let your will be melted into the will of God. As the winds are to the sea, so are our affections to the soul of man: as long as the sea is driven by the wind, it has no rest or quiet. And why are our hearts no more calm and settled, but because we have not yet surrendered our own will to the will of God? It is our own will that disturbs our peace. Let your will be put to death in God's will, and you will find yourself saying: Lord, I would love to have peace — yet not my will, but yours be done. I would love to have peace right now, yet I have no will but yours; so, Lord, whenever you will, and however you will, not my will but yours be done. Do this, and you will find rest at once.

Do you want peace, comfort, and quietness of soul? Then take heed how you keep company with those who doubt — take heed how you associate with those full of fears and doubts. Just as one drunkard makes another, one blasphemer breeds another, one opposer of godliness draws on another, and one adulterer makes another, so one doubting Christian makes another. Those of you who are weak and full of doubts should go and lean on those who are strong and have full assurance; and those of you who have assurance should offer your shoulder to the weak, and say, "Come, lean on me, and I will help you."

You know how it is with ivy and the vine: the ivy leans on the oak, and the vine on posts or the side of the house — ivy and vine do not lean on one another. If ivy and vine tried to lean on each other, imagine the tangle — both would fall to the ground. But the ivy leans on the oak, and the vine on the posts. So a weak Christian should lean on a strong one; but if one doubter leans on another doubter, both will fall to the ground.

I have read of a woman under great temptation who, meeting another in the same condition, said to her, "I am afraid I shall be damned." "So am I," said the other. "Oh, but," said the first, "I do not only fear it — I am sure of it; I shall certainly be damned." "Ah," said the other, "but my condition is worse still, for I am damned already." Here was damned answering damned: one said, "I shall certainly be damned," and the other said, "I am damned already." Oh, what fellowship is this! Is this how to build one another up? So, do you want comfort and peace? You who are weak, go and lean on those who are strong and have full assurance; and you who have assurance, do not be unwilling to lend your shoulder to those who are weak and full of doubts.

And to close it all: do you want peace and inward quietness of soul? Whenever the Lord begins to speak even the smallest peace to your heart, take care not to refuse it, but make the most of it, and stir yourself up in believing. Praise God for every smile, and rejoice in the least of them. If a small token, as it were, is sent you from heaven, treasure it up — every love-token. Peace is a tender thing. Has the Lord begun to speak peace to any of your souls? Then stir yourself up now in believing, and Christ will give you more.

You know how it was with Nathanael: when he believed because of what Christ had said, Christ told him, "Believest thou, because I said unto thee, I saw thee under the fig tree? Thou shalt see greater things than these... thou shalt see the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man." So the Lord Christ will say to a poor soul: I have spoken a word to you, I have given you a little peace — do you believe because of the word I have spoken? Then you shall see greater things, and I will give you an abundance of peace. Look into Isaiah 48:18, and there you will find the Lord speaking this way: "O that thou hadst hearkened to my commandments! then had thy peace been as a river, and thy righteousness as the waves of the sea." When the Lord speaks and calls people to believe, if they then listen to him, their peace becomes like a river. And when does the Lord call people to believe in a special way? When he gives them a word, and gives them a little peace — that is his call to believe. Now return, now believe, says the Lord.

You know how it was with Elijah. When the land had wanted rain for a long time, Elijah sent his servant toward the sea to watch for any sign of rain, while he himself fell on his face in prayer. His servant went and looked — no sign of rain. He went again — still no sign. But the seventh time, Elijah's servant saw a cloud the size of a man's hand, and came down to tell his master. At this, Elijah said, "Go up, say unto Ahab, Prepare thy chariot... that the rain stop thee not." So I say to you: you have been on your face in prayer, much discouraged — yet if, after praying, a little refreshment comes, even if it is no bigger than a hand's width, take it as a sign and say, surely more rain is coming. Come, O my soul, why art thou cast down, and why art thou disquieted within me? Hope in God, and wait on him — I hear abundance of rain coming.

When our Savior begins to speak peace, he often speaks first by just a small word — and if that word is taken hold of and put to use, he speaks more. You know how it was with Mary at the tomb, searching for her Lord. She said to the angels, "They have taken away my Lord," and the angels spoke to her, but could not comfort her. But at last her Savior himself came and spoke to her, and then she was comforted. And what did he say to her? Only one word: "Mary." So when someone is in trouble, the Lord sometimes comes and speaks only a word — he takes hold of a promise, sets that one word upon the soul, and the heart answers, "Rabboni" — my Lord.

So if the Lord speaks only one word to you, still stir yourself up in believing, and listen closely to him, for he will yet speak more fully and plainly. Only, when he speaks, listen — hearken diligently to him, and make full use of what he says. Then your peace will be like a river, and your righteousness like the ocean.

And with this, I have finished with the first sermon.