BE NOT WEARY IN WELL DOING
by C H SpurgeonFROM SWORD & TROWEL 2002 No
1
An address to the Metropolitan Tabernacle Ladies’ Working Benevolent
Society
In these sad days it is rare enough to find churches where members are
committed to spiritual work, but before the dawn of the welfare state, believers bore
the burden of social relief also. In Spurgeon’s time the Tabernacle was a ‘working
church’ in all respects, and this message to only one of the work groups provides a
small insight into this.
I have so often spoken to you upon various aspects of your good work, that I
thought, on this occasion, I would take a few of the apostle Paul’s words as a sort of peg on
which to hang my remarks. You will find the passage in Galatians 6.9: ‘Let us
not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.’
Your benevolent work, dear sisters, is one of the kinds of well doing in
which people do grow weary. I have no doubt that a good deal of weariness comes of that
perpetual ‘stitch, stitch, stitch,’ and of your efforts to minister to the poor and needy ones
who abound in this neighbourhood.
There is Mrs Brown over there (the mother of our dear brother Harry Brown,
of Darjeeling). I should think she is sometimes weary, for she always seems to be busy all
day long about some good work or other; and there are many other earnest, godly women
here, of her stamp, always at work for the Lord. It is not surprising if, sometimes, they are
as tired as if they had been toiling all day at the carpenter’s bench, or out in the fields
following the plough.
Physical weariness will come on; yet that is not being weary of the work, but
weary in it; and that weariness may sometimes be the part of the sacrifice which is most
acceptable to God. We cannot offer to our Lord that which costs us nothing, and its
preciousness in His sight will often be in exact proportion to the costliness of the service.
I think that we grow weary of well doing, and in
well doing, when there seems to be no end to it; and there is no end to such
work as yours in this terrible London, especially at such a time as this. All that you can do is
but as a drop in the bucket of the privation and distress around you. All the garments that
you make, all the food and money that you give, go but a very little way towards relieving
the wants of this awfully overgrown city.
Still, do not give up because you can do so little, and because your work
seems of such small use. You little coral insects must go on with your unobserved labours,
piling up the rocks upon which the next succession of workers will have to build, and by-
and-by, as the result of such toil as yours, there will be a beautiful island of refuge formed
amid the stormy sea of London’s poverty and sorrow.
We are also apt to get weary in well doing when the persons whom we
help do not seem to be grateful for what we do for them. There is a great deal of
ingratitude in the world. But if you, my good sisters, will never expect any thanks for what
you do, and if you do not wonder when you meet with ingratitude, and if you remember
how ungrateful you have yourselves been for all the goodness of God to you; then, all the
gratitude that does come will be a sweet surprise, and all the more welcome
because you did not look for it, or expect it.
But, anyhow, let us not stay our hand from doing good because the people
we help are ungrateful for all that is done for them. Thus shall we show that we are true
children of our Father in Heaven, Who ‘is kind unto the unthankful and to the evil’.
And again, do not let us be weary in well doing because sometimes our
well doing is turned to bad account. What if the sixpences that we give in charity are
wickedly spent upon gin? What if the money that we bestow for a loaf of bread is spent
upon beer? It is a very evil thing when that is the case; and, as a teetotaller, I wish the
people would all give up the drink, and drop their drop of beer; but, at the same time, I do
not think that I am responsible for their perversion of my gifts.
If poor people come to me, apparently starving, and I give them bread, and
when they receive it, they turn it into drink, I am not to be held accountable for their
wrongdoing. My present and pressing duty is to relieve the hungry, and to prevent starvation
as far as I can. If men and women are so sinful as to abuse the mercy which God sends to
them through me, I am not to be so wrong as to cease from giving to the poor on that
account.
If God were to keep back from us all His mercies because we might turn
them into evils, there would be very little for Him to bestow upon us. There is not anything
in this world, however good it may be, but may be turned to evil by the sons of men; but
God does not withhold His favours because of that sad fact.
Robert Hall used to say that it was a distinguishing mark of the goodness of
God that we were ever allowed to eat apple pie after the Fall! The Lord has not withered all
our gardens, nor dried up all our fountains, nor for ever turned all our pastures into a
wilderness, because of sin. The world remains a place of exceeding beauty, and a
storehouse of wondrous joy, notwithstanding all the sin that has marred that perfect creation
of God.
But, oftentimes, there is an occasion of weariness arising from our
work not being recognised. I remember certain disappointed workers who once said,
very sorrowfully, ‘Our service is not appreciated as it ought to be; we are quite ignored.’
How often I have wished that people would ignore me, and especially that I might be
ignored by the postman and the letter writers! Oh, Harrald [Spurgeon’s personal
secretary], you and I would be almost in Heaven if we could be out of the reach
of letters, and telegrams, with requests for sermons and speeches that we cannot possibly
deliver, piteous appeals for the loan of money, and entreaties that we would try to settle
quarrels, or help to manage certain good men and women, who are very difficult to control
when they get wrong!
I have occasionally heard that bitter complaint, ‘I have worked on now for
many years, and I have not had a word of encouragement or approval spoken to me, and
there’s Mrs So-and-so, quite a newcomer, see what a fuss is made of her and her work!’
Do you know, my dear sisters, that the best work at the Tabernacle is that
about which I hardly ever hear anything? As long as I do not hear anything about the work
of a Society, I know it is going on all right; for whenever there is a screw loose, I generally
hear of it pretty soon. You good ladies, keep on doing your work for the Lord, and if we do
not commend you for it, as we really ought, it is because we do not know anything that we
can say that would be good enough to express our appreciation of the service you are
rendering to the church and to the world.
I dare not begin to mention the names of the ladies who have been serving
the Lord and helping the poor through this Society, for they would shake their heads, dear
souls, and look at me through their eye-glasses, and say, ‘Do leave off, and let us alone; that
kind of talk ought not to be uttered. We do not want it, and we do not care to hear it.’
They are quite satisfied in having done their duty, and ministered to their
Lord, and they will be perfectly content if He condescends to accept their service. If any of
you ever do complain that nobody praises you for what you do; if you only let me know, I
will enquire into the matter, and very soon set the whole thing right, but I do not expect to
have any such task as that. No, no, you do not want anything of that sort; you are grateful to
have had the privilege of ministering to the poor, and you willingly leave all commendation
of your work to your dear Lord and Master, Who will never forget the smallest service
rendered to anyone ‘for His sake’.
I do, however, thank every lady here for all that she has done in connection
with this Society, and I thank those who are yet to come, who will be brought in by you to
do similar service during the coming year. I leave my text with you, taking it to myself as I
give it to you - ‘Let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we
faint not.’
You have done well, you are doing well; and you must try to do even better
in the future than you have done in the past. May the Lord abundantly bless the
Metropolitan Tabernacle Ladies’ Working Benevolent Society, for Christ’s sake! Amen.
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