Psalms 77:2

My soul refused to be comforted.

Refusing to be comforted

I. When a man’s soul refuses to be comforted, possibly he may be right. He may have a great spiritual sorrow, and some one, who does not at all understand his grief, may proffer to him a consolation which is far too slight. Not knowing how deep the wound is, this foolish physician may think that it can be healed with any common ointments. So, too, it is equally right to refuse to be comforted, when the comfort is untrue. When a man is under a sense of sin, I have known his friends say to him, “You should not fret; you have not been so very bad. You have been, indeed, a very good sort of fellow. You have not committed any very terrible sin; God help the world if you are a great sinner! I do not know what will become of the rest Of us.” Another says, “You have only to pray, and go to a place of worship; perhaps be a little more regular in your attention to religion, and it will all come right again; you are not so bad as you think you are.” Such talk as that is a lie, and the man whom God has really awakened to feel his state by nature will refuse to be comforted by such falsehoods as those. We have known others who have tried to comfort poor, mourning, repentant sinners in an unhallowed way. They have said, “You want to raise your spirits, I can recommend you some fine old wine; it will do you a world of good.” Another will say, “You should really mix a little more in society, and shake yourself up; you should get with some gay, lively people, they would soon take this melancholy out of you.” I am sure that a person who is really troubled in spirit will increase his sorrow if he attempts to cure it in that way. It is only putting more fuel on the flame. “In danger every moment of death, and certain that, if death came, I should be lost, can I enjoy mirth? It cannot be!” Refuse every comfort short of being born again, and made a new creature in Jesus.

II. But now, I want to show when this refusal is wrong. Probably he is wrong who says, “My soul refused to be comforted.” It is quite wrong if it be a temporal matter that causes your sorrow. Refuse not to be comforted, I pray you; you are only driving the dagger deeper into your wounds. Instead of doing that, think of the mercies that you still have, think of how God can bless your troubles. But now I will suppose that yours is a spiritual trouble. Do not refuse to be comforted, for if you do, you will be spiritually a suicide. The man who will not eat, and so dies of starvation, is as much a suicide as he that puts the pistol to his head, and blows out his brains.

III. But now, haply you will have to repent of refusing to be comforted. Possibly you will have to repent it in a very terrible way. Suppose, now, that you should refuse to be comforted, and so should wilfully go into a yet darker and deeper dungeon of despair. Suppose that your Christian friends should grow weary of you. Where would you be then? And suppose that, because you shut your eyes to the light, God should take it away? I do hope that many here present, who have refused to be comforted, will yet regret it when they shall be enjoying the fulness of comfort. “What a fool am I, thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty I I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle.” So he pulled it out of his bosom, put it in the lock, opened the door of the dungeon, and they soon passed out. Now, finally, when you and I get to heaven, we shall regret that we ever refused to be comforted. (C. H. Spurgeon.)

A sermon for the most miserable of men

My main bent, this morning, is to deal with mourners who are seeking Christ, but up till now have sought Him in vain.

I. Concerning so deplorable a state of heart, alas I still so common, we will remark in the first place that it is very wonderful. It is a most surprising thing that there should be in this world persons who have the richest consolation near to hand, and persistently refuse to partake of it. Doth the ox refuse its fodder? Will the lion turn from his meat? Or the eagle loathe its nest? The refusal of consolation is the more singular because the most admirable comfort is within reach. Sin can be forgiven; sin has been forgiven; Christ has made an atonement for it. It is said that some years ago, a vessel sailing on the northern coast of the South American continent, was observed to make signals of distress. When hailed by another vessel, they reported themselves as “Dying for water!” “Dip it up, then,” was the response, “you are in the mouth of the Amazon river.” There was fresh water all around them, they had nothing to do but to dip it up, and yet they were dying of thirst, because they thought themselves to be surrounded by the salt sea. How often are men ignorant of their mercies! How sad that they should perish for lack of knowledge! But suppose after the sailors had received the joyful information, they had still refused to draw up the water which was in boundless plenty all around them, would it not have been a marvel?

II. Secondly, this wonderful madness has a method in it, and may be variously accounted for. In many, their refusal to be comforted arises from bodily and mental disease. It is in vain to ply with scriptural arguments those who are in more urgent need of healing medicine, or generous diet, or a change of air. In some the monstrous refusal is suggested by a proud dislike to the plan of salvation. They would be comforted, aye, that they would, but may they not do something to earn eternal life? May they not at least contribute a feeling or emotion? May they not prepare themselves for Christ? In others it is not pride, but an unholy resolve to retain some favourite sin. In some cases we have found out that the sorrowing person indulged still in a secret vice, or kept the society of the ungodly. I fear, in a great many, there is another reason for this refusing to be comforted, namely, a dishonouring unbelief in the love, and goodness, and truthfulness of God. They do not believe God to be gracious; they think Him so stern that a sinner had need plead full many a day before the stern heart of God will be touched. Oh, but you do not know my God! What is He? He is love. Some, however, have refused comfort so long, that they have grown into the habit of despair. Beware of nursing despondency. Does it creep upon you to-day through unbelief? Oh, shake it off if possible!

III. This remarkable piece of folly assumes divers forms. One is a persistent misrepresentation of the Gospel, as though it claimed some hard thing of us. Another shape of this malady is this: many continually and persistently underestimate the power of the precious blood of Jesus. There are some who will then say, “But I have sinned such and such a sin.” What, and cannot the blood of Jesus wash that away? “All manner of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men.”

IV. This refusal to be comforted involves much of wrong. When you hear the Gospel and refuse to be comforted by it, there is a wrong done to the minister of God. He sympathizes with you, he desires to comfort you, and it troubles him when he puts before you the cup of salvation, and you refuse to take it. But worse than that, you wrong God’s Gospel. You put it away as though it were a thing of nought. You wrong this precious Bible. It is full of consoling promises, and you read it, and you seem to say, “It is all chaff.” Oh, but the Bible does not deserve to have such a slur cast upon it. You do wrong to the dear friends who try to comfort you. Above all, you do wrong to your God, to Jesus, and to His Holy Spirit. The crucifixion of Christ is repeated by your rejection of Christ.

V. Such a refusal should not be persisted in. (C. H. Spurgeon.)