From the Pastor’s Pen

Final thoughts on Job 19:25

For I know that my Redeemer lives, And He shall stand at last on the earth;           NKJV

The heart of Job’s comfort lies in that little word “My“–“My Redeemer,” and in the fact that His Redeemer, the Lord Jesus Christ Redeemer lives. Oh! to get hold of the risen and living Christ. We must have a part in Him before we can enjoy Him. What is gold in the mine to me? It is gold in my purse which will satisfy my needs, by purchasing the bread I need. So a savior who is still in the grave, a redeemer who does not redeem me, an avenger who will never stand up for my soul, of what good is such? Do not be content until, by faith, you can say “Yes, I cast myself upon my resurrected, living Lord; and He is mine.” It may be you hold him with a feeble hand; you half think it presumption to say, “He lives as my Redeemer;” yet, remember if you only have but faith as small as a mustard seed, that little faith entitles you to say it.

But there is also another word here, expressive of Job’s strong confidence, “I know.” To say, “I hope so, I trust so” is without absolute certainty; and there are thousands in the fold of Jesus who hardly ever get much further. But to reach the essence of consolation you must say, “I know.” Ifs, buts, and maybes are sure murderers of assurance, peace, and comfort. Doubts are dreary things in times of sorrow. Like wasps they sting the soul! If I have any suspicion that Christ is not mine, then there is vinegar mingled with the gall of death; but if I know that Jesus is risen and lives for me, then darkness is not dark: even the night is light about me.

Surely if Job, in those ages before the coming of Christ, could say, “I know,” we should not speak less positively. God forbid that our positiveness should be presumption. Let us see that our evidences are right, lest we build upon an ungrounded hope; and then let us not be satisfied with the mere foundation, for it is from the upper rooms that we get the widest prospect. A living Redeemer, truly mine, is joy unspeakable.           Charles H. Spurgeon