Showing posts with label Ministry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ministry. Show all posts

Sunday, December 7, 2014

W Arnot: Prayer and Preaching

W. Arnot:  Prayer and Preaching
Prayer and Preaching

I watched once the operations of a brick-maker in a field of clay. There was great agility in his movements. He wrought by piece, and the more he turned out the higher was his pay. His body moved like a machine. His task for a time was simply to raise a quantity of clay from a lower to a higher level by means of a spade, lie threw up one spadeful, and then he dipped his tool in a pail of water that stood by. After every spadeful of clay there was a dip in the water. The operation of dipping occupied as much time as raising. My first thought was, if he should dispense with these apparently useless baptisms, he might perform almost double the amount of work. My second thought was wiser: on reflection, I saw that if he should continue to work without these alternate washings, the clay would have stuck to the spade, and progress would have been altogether arrested. I said to myself, Go thou and do likewise. Prayer is the baptism which makes progress quick.

~

Spurgeon: A Young Preacher's Oppressive Sense of Responsibility

When I first became a pastor in London my success appalled me; and the thought of the career which it seemed to open up, so far from elating me, cast me into the lowest depths outer which I uttered my "miserere," and found no room for a "gloria in excelsis." Who was I that I should continue to lead so great a multitude? I would betake me to my village obscurity, or emigrate to America and find a solitary nest in the backwoods, where I might be sufficient for the things that would be demanded of me. It was just then that the curtain was rising upon my life work, and I dreaded what it might reveal. I hope I was not faithless, but I was timorous and filled with a sense of my own unworthiness. I dreaded the work which a gracious providence had prepared for me. I felt myself a mere child, and trembled as I heard the voice which said, "Arise and thresh the mountains and make them as chaff."
( C. H. Spurgeons Autobiography.)