The Pilgrim

Edward Griffin (1770—1837)
 

Hebrews 11:13
"These all died in faith not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth."

The apostle, in this chapter, was pointing out to the Hebrews the various operations and fruits of faith in the saints of old. A prompt obedience to the commands of God, renunciation of the world, and trust in the promises, were among the most prominent of these.

"By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he would after receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out not knowing where he went. By faith he sojourned in the land of promise as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise. For he looked for a city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God. These all died in faith not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth.

By faith Moses, when he was come to years, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter, choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season; esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures in Egypt.

And what shall I more say? for the time would fail me to tell of Gideon and of Barak and of Samson and of Jephtha, of David also and Samuel and of the prophets; who through faith subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the armies of the aliens. And others had trial of cruel mockings and scourgings, yes moreover of bonds and imprisonment. They were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword: they wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins, being destitute, afflicted, tormented; (of whom the world was not worthy,) they wandered in deserts and in mountains and in dens and caves of the earth. And these all, having obtained a good report through faith, received not the promise."

This was the character and condition of the ancient saints, those favorites of Heaven of whom the world was not worthy. They were destitute of worldly good. They were despised, forsaken, persecuted. But they regarded it not, for they felt themselves not at home, but strangers and pilgrims on the earth. The world was not the portion they sought, but they "looked for a city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God." I shall,

I. Inquire what it is to feel and conduct ourselves as strangers and pilgrims on the earth.

II. Suggest some reasons for doing this.

III. Urge the duty of believing and trusting in the promises of God.

I. What is it to feel and conduct ourselves as strangers and pilgrims on the earth?

A Christian's pilgrimage is a journey to Heaven. To feel and conduct ourselves as strangers and pilgrims on the earth, then, is to feel and conduct ourselves as not being at home in the flesh, but as traveling on a journey to the world above. It is to tread the world beneath our feet and to soar to Heaven in our affections.

A wise pilgrim will not encumber himself with a load of toys which will only impede his progress towards home; which, instead of adding to his enjoyments, will only perplex him on his journey; and which at last he cannot carry into his Father's house to possess, but must lay down and leave at the threshold.

A stranger on earth, if he is wise, will not expend his all in procuring the riches of the country, and in storing up an encumbrance of goods which he cannot carry with him when he returns, as he shortly must, to his native land. His principal object will be, (besides those temporary supplies which will support him along the way,) to lay up copiously those riches which he can carry with him when he returns to his abiding habitation. As he is only passing through the country on a pilgrimage to a distant realm, he will not allowl his affections to be engrossed by the transient objects which present themselves along the way; but his attention will be principally turned to the pursuit of his journey to the destined land. He will not be disposed, upon every difficult passage, to turn back to the land of sorrow he has left behind; but will imitate the pilgrims of old who were unmindful of the country from which they came out, though "they might have had opportunity to have returned." He will not lay aside the manners of the country where he hopes to spend his days, and assume the manners of the uncultivated tribes through which he is passing. He will obey the direction not to be conformed to the world. He will not perplex his mind by interesting himself in all the petty cares of the men he sees in his pilgrimage; but as Christ cleansed the temple of worldly objects, so he will cleanse his heart, which is the temple of God—of worldly attachments and cares. He knows he cannot cleave to these and pursue his journey, since he cannot serve both God and mammon. He will not be anxious to know what this or that man whom he meets on his journey says of him, or how he likes his appearance, since he only passes by him and is gone to be seen by him no more. If all the country through which he passes is disgusted at his foreign air and strangeness of appearance, it affects him not; since he is at once beyond their reach, and is soon to enter a country where all are congenial in mind, language, and behavior. He finds himself surrounded by strangers, not at home; at a distance from his relations and his Father's house. He is not contented to remain where he is, but is eager to press forward to meet and embrace his friends and to throw himself into his Father's arms. He looks and longs and pants after home. "O," he cries, "when will the happy day arrive when I shall be at rest? How long shall these mountains, rocks, and long tracts of desert land lie between me and all my soul holds dear? How long before I shall embrace my kindred and pay sweet homage at my Father's feet? How long shall the wild beasts of the desert howl around, and I be torn with the thorns of a foreign land? Come forth to meet me, O my Father, and help me, help me home." These are the feelings of a stranger on the earth, and these the breathings of a pilgrim after Heaven.

II. I am to suggest some reasons why we ought to feel and conduct ourselves as strangers and pilgrims on the earth.

1. A pilgrim's way is the only way to Heaven. We are by nature as far from home as we are from God. In order then to find an entrance into the peaceful doors of our parent's house, we must say with the prodigal, "I will arise and go to my Father."

2. Heaven is the only good worth setting our hearts upon—the only place where unsullied enjoyment is to be had—the only spot where untainted excellence is found. It alone contains pleasures which will never fade away. The experience of ages, as well as the word of God, has taught us that all things below the sun are "vanity and vexation of spirit."

Earth is a deceitful good.

Riches are ever ready to take wings and fly away.

Honor is a bubble liable to be dissolved by the arrows of envy.

Pleasures, like flowers, when gathered die.

Nothing is durable beneath the sun.

Nothing is satisfying beneath the enjoyment of God.

God is the sum of all good.

It was the discovery of this truth which made the Psalmist exclaim, "Whom have I in Heaven but you? and there is none upon earth that I desire besides you." He then who says of earth, Here shall be my rest, and to God, "Depart from" me, "for" I "desire not the knowledge of your ways," sets a wrong value on things and is blind to his own interest.

3. There is a sweetness in feeling ourselves strangers and pilgrims on the earth. It is sweet to feel ourselves not at home in the flesh, just on the wing to be gone, and arising to a better habitation. It is sweet to feel the world beneath our feet, to stand above it and converse with God. The man that does this is not indebted to the unsteady shifting objects of time and sense for his principal satisfaction, but possesses a happiness which the world can neither give nor take away. He can remain calm and unruffled amidst the changes of life. If earthly things depart, he says: They were made to die, and let them die. If the smiles of the world convert to frowns, he looks up with joy and sees a smiling God. He stands above the world, and, like a man above the clouds, remains unmoved and unruffled while the winds and storms beat upon the world beneath. While his hope of Heaven, the anchor of his soul, remains sure and steadfast—he cannot be tossed to and fro with disappointments nor sink under the burden of chagrin. He who trusts in the Lord shall not be greatly moved.

What a happy opportunity has the pilgrim, while standing aloof from the world and looking with the eyes of a stranger on all things below:
to notice the dispensations of providence,
to see divine faithfulness unfolded in a thousand little circumstances unnoticed by the busy world,
to search into the character, works, and government of God, and
to learn himself by watching the secret movements of his own mind.

When the world is shut out, he may retire within himself and survey the large dimensions of his soul. He may hold converse with the intellectual world and pity the world of sense. He may hold sweet communion with God, and taste the clusters of the promised land while yet in the wilderness. As he is a pilgrim by profession and makes it his daily business to travel heavenward, the happiness and glory of the heavenly world are more fully in his view, and he enjoys a double share of the blessedness which arises from a prospect of his future inheritance. He looks on Heaven as near; the mild, yet brilliant glories of the place fill his mind; he is ready to depart; the earth dwindles to a point; he sees the approving aspect of his God smiling upon him. Then he exclaims in ecstasy: "I feel the sweetness of being a pilgrim. This is not my home. I am a stranger on the earth as all my fathers were. My journey will soon end. Heaven already opens to my view. The resurrection is at hand."

4. A stranger and pilgrim on earth has everything that he needs; why then should he wish for any closer alliance with the world? God's favor is life, and his "loving kindness is better than life." He who enjoys him has all, and needs no more. The Christian has a promise that if he forsakes all for Christ, he shall receive in the present life a hundred fold. "No good thing will God withhold from those who walk uprightly." They shall possess in the present time every enjoyment which they could wish to possess, did they know what was for their good. Not a single pain which would ultimately prove an evil, will be allowed to attack them; and everything which actually does befall them will turn to their benefit.

Whatever turns up in life, they are safe and they are happy. If God had not seen that strangers and pilgrims on the earth could enjoy the highest happiness consistent with their ultimate good, he would not have confined his children within so narrow limits. If a closer alliance with the world was a real good, he would not have bestowed it on his enemies and withheld it from his dear children. The patriarchs were God's peculiar favorites; yet he gave them no abiding habitation, but left them to wander about literal strangers and pilgrims on the earth. In this he meant them no harm, but intended through them to show to the world that a state of pilgrimage was consistent with the possession of every real blessing. What more does a man want than to enjoy every needed good while here, to be happy under the smiles and protection of God, to go on his way rejoicing in peaceful hope of a happier country and certain of a better home? What more does the pilgrim want to make him happy? What need has he to come down into the world in quest of enjoyment? Would a nearer connection with the world render him more happy? No; for,

5. To relax into friendship with the world, to feel earth to be our home, and to say, It is good to be here, is very dangerous; as it draws the soul from God, clouds our sight of the glory of spiritual objects, exposes us to temptation, and is the chief cause of all our miseries.

Every Christian knows the truth of this assertion. When we begin to think of taking up our rest on earth, of making this a long and happy home:
we do not feel the pressing necessity of daily going to Heaven for enjoyment,
we discontinue our fellowship with the spiritual world,
we get away from God,
we throw ourselves without anchor into an ocean of cares,
we give ourselves up to be carried to and fro by innumerable disappointments,
we retire from under the shield of God, and are easily overcome by temptation.

While the soul is in the presence of God, Satan dares not approach with his wiles; or if he should, he would be unsuccessful. He waits for the soul to get away from God, and then makes his attack, as he did on Eve when absent from her husband, and on Peter while absent from his Lord. To be bound to the world is to be unloosed from God. Hence the Christian finds it no addition to his happiness, but a great increase of his misery, to forget that he is a stranger and to feel himself at home on the earth.

6. We are here in an enemy's country, while our dearest friends are in Heaven. Will a man feel himself at home in a foreign land, confined in prison among enemies—while his father and his brethren are living at a distance in the happy mansion where he received his existence? Did the Church feel themselves at home in the wilderness, filled with serpents and enemies? Did Daniel feel himself at home in the lion's den, or the three Hebrew children in the fiery furnace? So neither should a Christian feel himself at home while surrounded by spiritual enemies and a persecuting world. Heaven is his home; Heaven is the place of his rest. There his best friends, his kindred dwell; there God his Savior reigns.

7. This earth was never designed for the Christian's home. It is a field in which he is sent to labor. Here he spends the heat of the day, and he cannot find his home until the evening comes and his work is ended. If this earth had been designed for the Christian's home, it would have been made a very different place. It would not have been filled with so many snares and miseries, but would have been rendered a peaceful, quiet, holy habitation.

But God has prepared for him a better habitation, where nothing shall ever enter to disturb his rest, and where he shall feel himself forever at home. The Christian has only turned in here on earth, like a wayfaring man, to lodge for a night; but Heaven is his home where he has an eternity to spend. Eternity! eternity! O the boundless thought! How can we settle down in the dust as though we were always to continue here? How can we feel otherwise than as strangers and pilgrims on the earth?

8. The more of strangers we are on the earth, and the more fellowship we have with Heaven while here, the more welcome and happy shall we be when we arrive at glory. The more we feel a stranger's weariness with the world, and the more we feel a pilgrim's pantings after Heaven, the more we shall find our souls attuned to the harmony of the place, and with the more readiness and sweetness shall we, when released from earth, join in the employments of the new Jerusalem. If then to feel and conduct ourselves as strangers and pilgrims on the earth will make a whole eternity the sweeter, O let us yield the world to fools and emmets, and fix our eyes and all our desires on a better home.

III. Let us consider the duty of believing and trusting in the promises of God.

1. To believe and trust in the promises of God is an exercise of faith and an essential mark of a Christian. It is recorded as a characteristic of Abraham's faith, when Isaac was promised, that "he staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief, but was strong in faith, giving glory to God." The promise was, "In Isaac shall your seed be called;" yet when commanded of God, he scrupled not to offer up his son, "accounting that God was able to raise him up even from the dead."

Though the patriarchs died without seeing the promises fulfilled respecting Canaan and a future Savior, yet they "were persuaded of them and embraced them." The very essence of faith is "the evidence of things not seen."

2. We should not distrust the promises of God on account of their not being yet fulfilled, or because at particular times we cannot see the fulfillment of those which relate to the present life. It was never designed that the promises which relate to the life to come should be fulfilled at present. It is not fit that we should receive our reward until our work is done. It is not fit that we should be admitted at once to the promised land, because it is necessary for us to remain awhile in the wilderness to be cleansed of our Egyptian idolatry. Our being continued here awhile before we have all the promises fulfilled upon us, affords an opportunity for the trial and confirmation of our faith and patience. It affords us an opportunity of learning our dependence on God—of learning the evil by tasting the bitterness of sin—of discovering the faithfulness of God in coming to our relief in a thousand scenes of difficulty and trial, and in coming down, from time to time, into the deep pits where we are fallen, to pour into our souls the sweetness of his forgiving love.

Our temporary continuance at a distance from the promised land, will heighten the pleasures of our final release and render Heaven forever the sweeter. Neither ought we to distrust the promises which relate to the present life because at particular times we cannot see their fulfillment. The sum of these promises is:
that no real evil shall befall us,
that no good thing shall be withheld from us, and
that all things which do occur shall work together for our benefit.

Sometimes the Christian is so harassed and perplexed that he is ready to think that God has turned his foe, or has forgotten him. But let him remember that God's ways are not as our ways. Necessary afflictions are marks of parental faithfulness. "As many as I love I rebuke and chasten." So short sighted are we in regard to the design of particular dispensations, that "no man knows either love or hatred by all that is before them." Many events which at first wear a threatening aspect, soon prove to be but mercies in disguise. Others which we can never account for, we may still believe have the same benevolent tendency. In short, however our feelings may be crossed, nothing can evince a failure of the promise, that "no good thing will God withhold from them that walk uprightly."

3. The lack of a realizing belief in the divine promises, is the great reason of our impatience at the thought of being strangers and pilgrims on the earth. When the promises are hid behind the cloud of unbelief, and the troubles of the Christian warfare crowd upon us, we are ready too frequently to say, with the desponding Asaph, "Truly I have cleansed my heart in vain and washed my hands in innocence; for all the day long have I been plagued and chastened every morning." The service of God at such times appears unprofitable; and as unbelief is always selfish, we are apt to go back into the world in quest of a more profitable pursuit.

A Christian cannot turn back into the world while the promises are fully in his view. These animate him in his course and make him feel satisfied with the loss of the world. A full belief of the promises rendered the ancient saints contented to remain strangers and pilgrims on the earth. Had they lost sight of these through unbelief, they would have sought for a portion in the world and asked alms of flesh and sense.

4. There is a sweetness in believing and trusting in the promises of God. Then the soul is raised above the world and looks down with meek contempt on all the smiles and frowns of the world. The Christian then feels as secure and immovable as unchanging truth and almighty power can make him. When he reflects on his present condition, he knows it could not be otherwise consistently with his highest ultimate happiness. When he looks forward into life, he fears no approaching danger, for he knows that no real evil can ever befall him. When he looks into the heavens, he says with calm serenity: Yonder world of light was made for me, for I am a child of God. Yonder stands my Father's throne. Yonder do my Christian friends surround it with low prostration. Yonder I shall soon be and share in all their joys. Let Hell rave and earth ferment, I fear them not; my Protector lives, and soon I shall bless him face to face!

5. The promises of God are absolutely unfailing. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but one jot or tittle of the promises shall never fail. They are sealed by the blood of Christ and recorded in the presence of Heaven. God can as soon deny himself, as he can deny his children their promised inheritance or a single good stipulated for them here. Not one of his promises has ever been known to fail since the earth was. The patriarchs lived long in this benighted wilderness before they possessed their promised reward. During their whole lives they waited patiently for the promises of Canaan and a future Savior. And long since have all these promises been fulfilled, and the blessed men have gone home to possess the eternal rewards of their faith and patience. With equal certainty will God fulfill his promises to all his children. He will infallibly bestow upon them every needed blessing here; and at the best time he will unfailingly bring them home to the promised rest.

Men and brethren, if these things are so what shall we say of ourselves? And dare any who have the Bible in their hands deny their truth?

APPLICATION:

1. Let us then reprove ourselves for our worldly attachments, and for not feeling more like strangers and pilgrims on the earth. How prone we are to feel ourselves undone when the world frowns upon us. How inconsolable we are when anything breaks in upon our temporal prosperity. If wealth or honor or pleasure or friends have fled, our hearts are all unstrung, but the mourning strings. We are ready to say with Micah, "You have taken away my gods—what more do I have?" What more could we do if earth was our eternal home? Do we not know that this life is but a breath, a point, a nothing in comparison with eternity? Do we know that we are heaven-born, and hope soon to return to abide there forever? Christian, you are almost there. Why then do you come back to earth? What can you find by your return but disappointment and chagrin? Do you find the climate more congenial, or are you so soon tired of what you find above? How, then can you bear to dwell above forever?

Can you not endure to live a stranger to the earth a few days? How then can you be willing to be an eternal stranger to it? How will you endure to see your idol consumed in the general conflagration? Can you survive its loss and be happy when it is no more? Why then can you not now be happy without it? Come, put away your idol, (it is only a vexation,) and learn to be a pilgrim. Come out from the world, flee from Sodom, and escape to Heaven!

2. Let us reprove our impatience and despondency at a distant view or disbelief of the promises. How often, even while we hold fast the idea of our adoption, do we despond at the many difficulties which lie in our way to Heaven, and grow impatient that the promises are yet seen afar off. How often do we doubt the fulfillment of those which relate to the present life. How apt are we, in view of danger or trouble, to say, "I shall now perish one day by the hand of Saul!" I shall not be supported bu God. The evil will certainly come, and it will be a real evil. O that I could direct all matters myself. Such secret workings of unbelief, though they do not come out to public view, may often be traced by an attentive observer of himself.

Alas that we should thus give the lie to all the sacred promises of God. Christian, it is "impossible for God to lie." It is as impossible for him to cease to love and protect you, as it is for him to cease to love and defend himself. Talk not of your unworthiness. If you had a righteousness of your own, what need have you of the righteousness of Christ? If your unworthiness was a bar to your receiving favor, you would long since have been in Hell. Trust then in God and fear not. Though heavy afflictions are sent, your Father means you no harm. They shall subserve your interest. Say then with the patient Job, "Though he slays me yet will I trust in him." Wait a little longer and you shall see a fulfillment of all the promises. Heaven shall soon open its gates for your admission. The resurrection morning is hastening on. The books shall be opened. The divine dispensations shall all be explained. And when they are understood, you shall find there never was a failure of a single promise which your Father made to you. You will then rejoice in everything that ever befell you in your lives. You will wonder at your former unbelief, and bless God for all his faithfulness. "Strange," you will say, "that I should so often doubt whether the God of all truth would fulfill his word. How could I doubt? How could I fear, when God was taking the readiest way to bring me to the possession of all this glory?"

Christian, you have nothing to do but to:
disconnect your affections from the world,
place your hopes and desires in Heaven,
devote your lives to God,
cast all your cares with him,
and "rejoice evermore."

Praise and joy and trust are the best returns you can make to God for all his love. Fulfill your duty to him, and he will fulfill his promise to you. Give him no cause to distrust you, and you need never distrust him. Take him for your all, and he will be all to you. He will be your Father, your Friend, your Protector, your support while here—and your everlasting portion beyond the grave! Amen.