A parent's greatest joy!
"I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth." 3 John 4
I fear that many, even among professors of religion, could not truthfully repeat my text; they look for other joy in their children, and care little whether they are walking in truth or not. They joy in them if they are healthy in body, but they are not saddened though the leprosy of sin remains upon them. They joy in their lovely looks, and do not inquire whether they have found favor in the sight of the Lord. Put the girl's feet in silver slippers, and many heads of families would never raise the question as to whether she walked the broad or the narrow road. It is very grievous to see how some professedly Christian parents are satisfied so long as their children display cleverness in learning, or sharpness in business, although they show no signs of the new birth. If they pass their examinations with credit, and promise to be well fitted for the world's battle, their parents forget that there is a superior conflict, involving a higher crown, for which the child will need to be fitted by divine grace, and armed with the whole armor of God. Alas, if our children lose the crown of life, it will be but a small consolation that they have won the laurels of literature or art. Many who ought to know better think themselves superlatively blessed in their children if they become rich, if they marry well, if they strike out into profitable enterprises in trade, or if they attain eminence in the profession which they have espoused. Their parents will go to their beds rejoicing, and awake perfectly satisfied, though their boys are hastening down to Hell, if they are also making money by the bushel. They have no greater joy than that their children are having their portion in this life, and laying up treasure where rust corrupts it. Though neither their sons nor daughters show any signs of the new birth, give no evidence of being rich towards God, manifest no traces of electing love or redeeming grace, or the regenerating power of the Holy Spirit--yet there are parents who are content with their condition.
Now, I can only say of such professing parents that they have need to question whether they are Christians at all, and if they will not question it themselves, they must give some of us leave to hold it in serious debate. When a man's heart is really right with God, and he himself has been saved from the wrath to come, and is living in the light of his heavenly Father's countenance, it is certain that he is concerned about his children's souls, prizes their immortal natures, and feels that nothing could give him greater joy than to hear that his children walk in truth.
Judge yourselves, then, beloved, this morning, by the gentle but searching test of the text. If you are professing Christians, but cannot say that you have no greater joy than the conversion of your children, you have reason to question whether you ought to have made such a profession at all.
Let us then remark, in the next place, that the joy which is mentioned a in the text is special in its object. The expression is a thoughtful one. John did not write those words in a hurry, but has compressed a great deal into them. He says, "I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth."
Now, beloved parents, it is a very great joy to us if our children LEARN the truth. I hope you will not allow one of them to grow up and leave your roof without knowing the doctrines of the gospel, without knowing the life of Christ, and the great precepts of Scripture, without having as clear an understanding as it is possible for you to give them of the great principles and plan of salvation. When we perceive that our children when we question them, thoroughly understand the gospel, and are well rooted and grounded in its doctrines, it is a great joy to us, and well it may be. It is, however, far more a joy when those same children FEEL the truth; for, alas, we may know it and perish, unless we have felt its power within.
Parent, was not your heart glad when you first saw the tear of repentance in the girl's eye? Did it not give you joy when your son could say, "Father, I trust I have believed and am saved by the grace of God"? Yes, it is a greater joy that they should feel the power of truth than that they should know the letter of it. Such a joy I hope none of you be content to forego; it should be the holy ambition of every parent that all his house should be converted by the Holy Spirit.
It is a great joy when our children avow their sense of the truth, when, knowing it and feeling it, they at last have the courage to say, "We would join with the people of God for we trust we belong to them." Oh, happy as a marriage day, is that day in which the parent sees his child surrendered to the people of God, having first given his heart to the Christ of God! The baptism of our believing children is always a joyous occasion to us, and so it ought to be. Our parents before us magnified the Lord when they heard us say, "We are on the Lord's side," and we cannot but give thanks abundantly when the same privilege falls to us in our children.
But, beloved, there is conceern about all this. When you teach your children, there is the fear that perhaps they will not learn to profit; when they feel, there is still the fear lest it should be mere feeling, and should be the work of nature and not the work of the Spirit of God; and even when they profess to be the Lord's, there yet remains the grave question: Will this profession last? Will they be able to stand firm and be true to the faith until life's last hour?
But the joy of the text is higher than these three; though these have to come before it, and it grows out of them. "I have no greater joy than this, to hear that my children WALK in truth." There is the point, their practical religion, their actual exemplification of the power of the gospel upon their lives. This proves that the teaching was well received, that the feeling was not mere excitement, that the profession was not a falsehood or a mistake, but was done in truth. What bliss it would be to us to see our sons grow up, and with integrity, prudence, uprightness, and grace, walk in truth, and to behold our daughters springing up in all their loveliness, lovely with the adornment of a meek and quiet spirit, befitting in their homes while with us, or in the new homes which speedily grow up around them, patterns of everything that is tender, gracious, and kind, and true. "I have no greater joy than this," says John, and truly all of you to whom such joy as this has been allotted can say, "Amen, Amen, it is even so." The joy before us has therefore a special possessor and a special object.
It is a healthful joy, beloved, in which we may indulge to the full without the slightest fear, for it is superior in its character to all earthly joys. "Not too much," is a good rule for everything which has to do with time; but this joy in our children's walking in the truth we may indulge in as much as we will.
For, first, it is a spiritual joy, and therefore of a superior order. We do not joy to the full in the things which are seen of the eye and heard of the ear, for these are things of the flesh, which will decay; such as the garment which is eaten by the moth, and the metal which is devoured by the rust. We rejoice in the work of the Spirit of God, a work which will abide when this world shall have passed away. Hannah had some joy in the new coat which she made for young Samuel, but a far higher delight in the new heart which early showed itself in his actions.
Our son promoted to be a king might cause us some delight; but to see our children made "princes in all the earth," according to that ancient promise, would be a diviner delight by far. Rejoice in it, then, without trembling, for spiritual joy will never intoxicate. Such joy arises from love to God, and is therefore commendable.
We love to see our children converted, because we love God. Out of love to him, through his grace, we gave ourselves to him, and now, in after years, the same love prompts us to present our children. As Barzillai in his old age prayed David to accept the personal service of his son Chimham, so would we, when our own strength declines, present our offspring to the Lord, that they may supply our lack of service. We have said--
"Had I ten thousand thousand tongues,
Not one should silent be;
Had I ten thousand thousand hearts,
I'd give them all to Thee."
Now as we have only one tongue of our own, we are intensely earnest that our children's tongues should sound forth the praises of the Savior. We have not another life on earth to call our own, but here are lives which the Lord has given us, and we are delighted that he should have them for himself. We cry, "Lord, take this child's life and let it all be spent to your service, from his earliest days until grey hairs shall adorn his brow." It is like the old soldier coming up to his king and saying, "I am worn out in your service, but you are so good a monarch that I have brought my son that he may serve you from his youth up; let him take his father's place, and may he excel him in valor and in capacity to serve his king and country."
Now, when our children walk in truth and love to God, it makes us rejoice that another heart is consecrated to his service. We may well rejoice in the salvation and in the sanctification of our sons and daughters, because this is the way in which the kingdom of Christ is to be extended in the world. The hand which has held the standard aloft in the midst of the fury of war is at last palsied in death: happy is that standard-bearer who with expiring eye can see his own son springing forward to grasp that staff, and keep the banner still floating above the host. Happy Abraham to be followed by an Isaac! Happy David to be succeeded by a Solomon! Happy Lois, to have Eunice for a daughter, and happy Eunice to have Timothy for a son! This is the apostolic succession in which we believe, and for which we pray. How, in years to come, are we to see a seed of piety flourishing in the land, and the world conquered to Christ? How, indeed, but by means of the young men of Israel? We shall be sleeping beneath the green sward of the cemetery in peace; other voices will be heard in the midst of the assemblies of the saints, and other shoulders will bear the ark of the Lord through the wilderness. Where are our successors? Whence shall come these succeeding voices, and whence those needed shoulders of strength? We believe they will come from among our children, and if God grants, it shall be so, we shall need no greater joy.
I will tell you why this is peculiarly the great joy of some Christian parents--it is because they have made it a subject of importunate prayer. That which comes to us by the gate of prayer comes into the house with music and dancing. If you have asked for it with tears, you will receive it with smiles. The joy of an answer to prayer is very much in proportion to the wrestling which went with the prayer. If you have felt sometimes as though your heart would break for your offspring unless they were soon converted to God, then, I will tell you, when they are converted you will feel as though your heart would break the other way, out of joy to think that they have been saved. Your eyes, which have been red with weeping over their youthful follies, will one day become bright with rejoicing over holy actions which will mark the work of the grace of God in their hearts. No wonder that Hannah sang so sweetly; for she had prayed so earnestly; the Lord had heard her, and the joy of the answer was increased by the former anguish of her prayer. We have no greater joy than this, that our children walk in truth; and it is a right and allowable joy, and springs from good sources, and we need not be afraid to indulge it.
This joy is quickening in its effect. All who have ever felt it know what an energy it puts into them. Those of you who have never yet received it, but are desiring it, will, I trust, be quickened by the desire. This is what it means. Is one son in the family converted to God? In that fact we rejoice, but we cannot linger over joy for one, we are impelled to think of the others. If God has been pleased to call half a household to salvation, there is a hunger and thirst in the parent's heart after this luscious delight, and that parent cries, "Lord, let them all be brought in, let not one be left behind."
Are some of you this morning so happy as to see all your children converted? I know some of you are. Oh, how holy and how heavenly ought your families to be, when God has so favored you above many of his own people. Be very grateful, and while you are joyous, lay the crown of your joy at your Savior's feet; and if you have now a church in your house, maintain the ordinance of family worship with the greater zeal and holiness, and pray for others that the Lord in like manner may visit them also.
Beloved, have you some of your children converted while others remain unsaved? Then I charge you, let what the Lord has done for some encourage you concerning the rest. When you are on your knees in prayer say to your heavenly Father, "Lord, you have heard me for a part of my house, I beseech you, therefore, to look in favor upon it all, for I cannot bear that any of my dear children should choose to remain your enemies, and pursue the road which leads to Hell. You have made me very glad with the full belief that a portion of my dear ones walk in the truth, but I am sad because I can see from the conduct of others that they have not yet been changed in heart, and therefore do not keep your statutes. Lord, let my whole household eat of the Paschal Lamb, and with me come out of Egypt, through your grace."
I am sure, beloved, this is how you feel, for every true Christian longs to see all of his children the called of the Lord. Suppose it would be put to us that one child of our family must be lost, and that we should be bound to make the dreadful choice of the one to be cast away, we should never bring ourselves to it, it would be too terrible a task; God will never appoint us such a misery.
We have heard of a poor Irish family on shipboard, very numerous and very needy: a kind friend proposed to the father to entirely give up one of the little ones to be adopted and provided for. It was to be entirely given up, never to be seen again, or in any way claimed as their own, and the parents were to make a selection. It is a long story, but you know how the discussion between the parents would proceed. Of course they could not give up the eldest, for the simple reason that he was the firstborn. The second was so like the mother; the third was too weak and sickly to be without a mother's care. So the excuses went on throughout the whole family, until they came to the last, and no one dared even to hint that the mother should be deprived of her darling. No child could be parted with; they would sooner starve together than renounce one.
Now, I am sure if the bare giving up a child to be adopted by a kind friend would be a painful thing, and we could not come to a decision as to which to hand over--we could far less be able to surrender one beloved child to eternal destruction. God forbid we should dream of such a thing. We would cry day and night, "No, Lord, we cannot see them die. Spare them, we implore you!" We could almost rival the spirit of Moses: "Blot my name out of the book of life sooner than my children should be castaways. Save them, Lord! Save every one of them without exception, for your mercy's sake!" We would make no differences in our prayers between one child and another.
Now, I am sure that we would be quite right in such desires and emotions, and very wrong if we were able to sit down and contemplate the eternal ruin of our own offspring with calm indifference. God has made, you parents, and he does not expect you to act otherwise than as a parent's relations require you to act. That which would be unnatural, cannot be right. As a Father himself the Lord yearns over his erring children, and he can never be grieved with us if we do the same. Nowhere do you meet with rebukes of natural parental love unless it unwisely winks at sin. Even David's bitter lamentation, "O Absalom, my son, my son, would God I had died for you, O Absalom, my son, my son!" is not censured by the Lord. Neither do we find him rebuking Abraham for saying, "O that Ishmael might live before you!" These desires are so consistent with the natural instincts which he has himself implanted, that, even if they are not always granted, God never disapproves them. Even if our child should turn out to be an Esau, or an Ishmael, or an Absalom--yet still the prayers of the father for him are not forbidden. How could they be? Do not be afraid at any time when pleading for the souls of your children; be importunate, be eager, be earnest, not for the child's life--that you must leave with God; not for the child's health--that also you may make a secondary matter; but for the child's soul. Stint not yourself in this, but wrestle as hard as you will, and say, "I will not let you go unless you bless my children, every one of them! Their unregenerate state is my deepest sorrow: O Lord, be pleased to recover them therefrom."
Once more, this high joy of which we have spoken is very solemn in its surroundings, for it involves this alternative, "What if my children should not walk in truth?" Well, that means for us during this life many sorrows, nights of sleeplessness and days of concern. I have seen godly men and great men crushed beneath the daily trouble caused by their children. "Children," said one, "are doubtful blessings," and he was near the truth. Blessings they are, and they can be made by God the choicest of blessings; but if they shall grow up to be dissolute, impure, ungodly, they will make our hearts ache.
"How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is,
To have a thankless child."
No cross is so heavy to carry as a living cross. Next to a holy woman who is bound to an ungodly husband, or a holy man who is unequally yoked with a graceless wife--I pity the father whose children are not walking in the truth, who yet is himself an earnest Christian. Must it always be so, that the father shall go to the house of God and his son to the alehouse? Shall the father sing the songs of Zion, and the son and daughter pour forth the ballads of Belial? Must we come to the communion table alone, and our children be separated from us? Must we go on the road to holiness and the way of peace, and behold our dearest ones traveling with the multitude the broad way, despising what we prize, rebelling against him whom we adore? God grant it may not be so, but it is a very solemn reflection.
More solemn still is the vision before us if we cast our eyes across the river of death into the eternity beyond. What if our children should not walk in the truth, and should die unsaved? There cannot be tears in Heaven; but if there might, the celestials would look over the bulwarks of the new Jerusalem and weep at the sight of their children in the flames of Hell, forever condemned, forever shut out from hope. What if those to whom we gave being, should be weeping and gnashing their teeth in torment while we are beholding the face of our Father in Heaven! Remember the separation time must come. O you thoughtless youths! Between you and your parents there must come an eternal parting! Can you endure the thought of it? Perhaps your parents will first leave this world--oh, that their departure might touch your consciences and lead you to follow them to Heaven! But if you go first, unforgiven, impenitent sinners--then your parents will have a double woe in their hour.
How sadly have I marked the difference when I have gone to the funeral of different young people. I have been met by the mother who told me some sweet story about the girl, and what she did in life and what she said in death, and we have talked together before we have gone to the grave with a subdued sorrow which was near akin to joy, and I have not known whether to condole or to congratulate.
But in other cases, when I have entered the house my mouth has been closed, I have asked few questions, and very little has been communicated to me; I have scarcely dared to touch upon the matter. By-and-by the father has whispered to me, "The worst of all is, sir, we had no evidence of conversion. We would have gladly parted with the dear one if we might have had some token for good. It breaks my wife's heart, sir. Comfort her if you can."
I have felt that I was a poor comforter, for to sorrow without hope is to sorrow indeed. I pray it may never be the lot of any one of us to weep over our dead sons and daughters, and twice dead. Better were it that they had never been born, better that they had perished like untimely fruit, than that they should live to dishonor their father's God and their mother's Savior, and then should die to receive, "Depart, you who are cursed," from those very lips which to their parents will say, "Come, you who are blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you."
Proportionate to the greatness of the joy before us, is the terror of the contrast. I pray devoutly that such an overwhelming calamity may never happen to any one connected with any of our families.