Never Once Has He Pardoned An Unpunished Sin
God “will not acquit the wicked;” how prove I this? I prove it thus. Never once has he pardoned an unpunished sin; not in all the years of the Most High, not in all the days of his right hand, has he once blotted out sin without punishment. What! say you, were not those in heaven pardoned? Are there not many transgressors pardoned, and do they not escape without punishment? Has be not said, “I have blotted out thy transgressions like a cloud, and like a thick cloud thine iniquities?” Yes, true, most true, and yet my assertion is true also — not one of all those sins that have been pardoned were pardoned without punishment. Do you ask me why and how such a thing as that can be the truth? I point you to yon dreadful sight on Calvary; the punishment which fell not on the forgiven sinner fell there. The cloud of justice was charged with fiery hail; the sinner deserved it; it fell on him; but, for all that, it fell, and spent its fury; it fell there, in that great reservoir of misery; it fell into the Saviour’s heart. The plagues, which need should light on our ingratitude did not fall on us, but they fell somewhere and who was it that was plagued? Tell me, Gethsemane; tell me, O Calvary’s summit, who was plagued. The doleful answer comes, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani!“ “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” It is Jesus suffering all the plagues of sin. Sin is still punished, though the sinner is delivered.
But, you say, this has scarcely proved that he will not acquit the wicked. I hold it has proved it, and proved it clearly. But do ye want any further proof that God will not acquit the wicked? Need I lead you through a long list of terrible wonders that God has wrought — the wonders of his vengeance?
Shall I show you blighted Eden? Shall I let you see a world all drowned — sea monsters whelping and stabling in the palaces of kings? Shall I let you hear the last shriek of the last drowning man as he falls into the flood and dies, washed by that huge wave from the hill top? Shall I let you see death riding upon the summit of a crested billow, upon a sea that knows no shore, and triumphing because his work is done; his quiver empty, far all men are slain, save where life flows in the midst of death in yonder ark? Need I let you see Sodom, with its terrified inhabitants, when the volcano of almighty wrath spouted fiery hail upon it? Shall I show you the earth opening its mouth to swallow up Korah, Dathan, and Abiram? Need I take you to the plagues of Egypt? Shall I again repeat the death shriek of Pharaoh, and the drowning of his host? Surely, we need not to be told of cities that are in ruins, or of nations that have been cut off in a day; ye need not to be told how God has smitten the earth from one side to the other, when he has been wrath, and how he has melted mountains in his hot displeasure. Nay, we have proofs enough in history, proofs enough in Scripture, that “he will not at all acquit the wicked.” If ye wanted the best proof however, ye should borrow the black wings of a miserable imagination, and fly beyond the world, through the dark realm of chaos on, far on, where those battlements of fire are gleaming with a horrid light — if through them, with a spirit’s safety, ye would fly, and would behold the worm that never dies, the pit that knows no bottom, and could you there see the fire unquenchable, and listen to the shrieks and wails of men that are banished for ever from God — if, sirs, it were possible for you to hear the sullen groans and hollow moans, and shrieks of tortured ghosts, then would you come back to this world, amazed and petrified with horror, and you would say, “Indeed he will not acquit the wicked.” You know, hell is the argument of the text, may you never have to prove the text by feeling in yourselves the argument fully carried out, “He will not at all acquit the wicked.”
And now we trace this terrible attribute to its source. Why is this?
We reply, God will not acquit the wicked, because he is good. What! doth goodness demand that sinners shall be punished? It doth. The Judge must condemn the murderer, because he loves his nation. “I cannot, let you go free; I cannot, and I must not; you would slay others, who belong to this fair commonwealth, if I were to let you go free; no, I must condemn you from the very loveliness of my nature.” The kindness of a king demands the punishment of those who are guilty. It is not wrathful in the legislature to make severe laws against great sinners; it is but love towards the rest that sin should be restrained. Yon great floodgates, which keep back the torrent of sin, are painted black, and look right horrible, like horrid dungeon gates, they affright my spirit; but are they proofs that God is not good? No sirs; if ye could open wide those gates, and let the deluge of sin flow on us, then would you cry, “O God, O God! shut-to the gates of punishment again, let law again be established, set up the pillars, and swing the gates upon their hinges; shut again the gates of punishment, that this world may not again be utterly destroyed by men who have become worse than brutes.” It needs for very goodness’ sake that sin should be punished. Mercy, with her weeping eyes (for she hath wept for sinners) when she finds they will not repent, looks more terribly stern in her loveliness than Justice in all his majesty; she drops the white flag from her hand, and saith — “No; I called, and they refused; I stretched out my hand, and no man regarded; let them die, let them die,” — and that terrible word from the lip of Mercy’s self is harsher thunder than the very damnation of Justice. Oh, yes, the goodness of God demands that men should perish, if they will sin.
And again, the justice of God demands it. God is infinitely just, and his justice demands that men should be punished, unless they turn to him with full purpose of heart. Need I pass through all the attributes of God to prove it? Methinks I need not. We must all of us believe that the God who is slow to anger and great in power is also sure not to acquit the wicked. And now just a home thrust or two with you. What is your state this morning? My friend, man, woman, what is thy state? Canst thou look up to heaven, and say, “Though I have sinned greatly, I believe Christ wee punished in my stead,
’My faith looks back to see,
The burden he did bear,
When hanging on the cursed tree,
And knows her guilt was there?’”
The burden he did bear,
When hanging on the cursed tree,
And knows her guilt was there?’”
Can you by humble faith look to Jesus, and say, “My substitute, my refuge, my shield; thou art my rock, my trust; in thee I do confide?” Then beloved, to you I have nothing to say, except this, — Never be afraid when you ace God’s power; for now that you are forgiven and accepted, now that by faith you have fled to Christ for refuge, the power of God need no more terrify you, than the shield and sword of the warrior need terrify his wife or his child. “Nay,” saith the woman, “is he strong? He is strong for me. Is his arm brawny, and are all his sinews fast and strong? Then are they fast and strong for me. Whilst he lives, and wears a shield, he will stretch it over my head; and whilst his good sword can cleave foes, it will cleave my foes too, and ransom me.” Be of good cheer; fear not his power.
But hast thou never fled to Christ for refuge? Dost thou not believe in the Redeemer? Hast thou never confided thy soul to his hands? Then, my friends, hear me; in God’s name, hear me just a moment. My friend, I would not stand in thy position for an hour, for all the stars twice spelt in gold! For what is thy position? Thou hast sinned, and God will not acquit thee, he will punish thee. He is letting thee live, thou art reprieved. Poor is the life of one that is reprieved without a pardon! Thy reprieve will soon run out; thine hour-glass is emptying every day. I see on some of you death has put his cold hand, and frozen your hair to whiteness. Ye need your staff, it is the only barrier between you and the grave now, and you are, all of you, old and young, standing on a narrow neck of land, between two boundless seas — that neck of land, that isthmus of life, narrowing every moment, and you, and you, and you, are yet unpardoned. There is a city to be sacked, and you are in it — soldiers are at the gates; the command is given that every man in the city is to be slaughtered save he who can give the password. “Sleep on, sleep on; the attack is not to-day, sleep on, sleep on.” “But it is to-morrow, Sir.” “Ay, sleep on, sleep on, it is not till to-morrow sleep on, procrastinate, procrastinate.” “Hark! I hear a rumbling at the gates, the battering ram is at them; the gates are tottering.” “Sleep on, sleep on; the soldiers are not yet at your doors; sleep on, sleep on; ask for no mercy yet; sleep on, sleep on!” “Ay, but I hear the shrill clarion sound, they are in the streets. Hark, to the shrieks of men and women! They are slaughtering them, they fall they fall, they fall!” “Sleep on; they are not yet at your door.” “But hark, they are at the gate; with heavy tramp I hear the soldiers marching up the stairs!” “Nay, sleep on, sleep on, they are not yet in your room.” “Why, they are there, they have burst open the door that parted you from them, and there they stand!” “No, sleep on, sleep on, the sword is not yet at your throat, sleep on, sleep on!” It is at your throat; you start with horror. Sleep on, sleep on! But you are goner “Demon, why toldest thou me to slumber! It would have been wise in me to have escaped the city when first the gates were shaken. Why did I not ask for the password before the troops came? Why, by all that is wise why did I not rush into the streets, and cry the password when the soldiers were there? Why stood I till the knife was at my throat? Ay, demon that thou art, be cursed; but I am cursed with thee for ever!” You know the application, it is a parable ye can all expound, ye need not that I should tell you that death is after you, that justice must devour you, that Christ crucified is the only password that can save you, and yet you have not learnt it — that with some of you death is nearing, nearing, nearing, and that with all of you he is close at hand! I need not expound how Satan is the demon, how in hell you shall curse him and curse yourselves because you procrastinated — how, that seeing God was slow to anger you were slow to repentance — how, because he was great, in power, and kept back his anger, therefore you kept back your steps from seeking him; and here you are what you are!
Spirit of God, bless these words to some souls that they may be saved! May some sinners be brought to the Saviour’s feet, and cry for mercy. We ask it for Jesus’ sake. Amen.
Spurgeon, C. H.
Spurgeon's Sermons: Volume 3 (electronic ed.).
No. 137 "Mercy, Omnipotence, and Justice"
Spurgeon's Sermons: Volume 3 (electronic ed.).
No. 137 "Mercy, Omnipotence, and Justice"
on Nahum 1:3