How Long?

A Sermon By Archibald G. Brown

Adapted

How long, O Lord, will you look on? — Psalm 35:17

As we consider this Psalm 35, let us recognize that it is not only as it is entitled “A psalm of David,” but also a psalm of the Messiah. A greater than David is here. “The sweet psalmist of Israel” 2 Sam 23.1 doubtless expresses in its verses his own experience and his personal longings, but while doing so, he also prophetically describes what would be the griefs, sorrows, and prayers of him who, while David’s Lord, was in his humanity the “Son of David.” Mar 12.35

There is a striking resemblance in this psalm to the twenty-second, in which the prophet personalizes the Messiah in his state of humiliation and suffering. In both, felt weakness is expressed. In both, cruel persecutors are described. In both, integrity is maintained, and in both, the lack of comfortings from on high is portrayed as the bitterest drop in the cup. The same one who in the twenty-second psalm exclaims, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning?” Psa 22.1 also speaks out the bitter cry of our text, “How long, O Lord, will you look on? Rescue me from their destruction, my precious life from the lions!” Psa 35.17

However, this morning we will take the words as David’s own (and most assuredly they are) as describing the sorrow of soul that he himself endured. The troubles of his heart were many and large.

He was surrounded by ruthless enemies, by whom no weapon that could inflict a wound was neglected. His character was maligned; his motives misinterpreted; his times of trouble and adversity made the times of their fiercest attacks, “at my stumbling they rejoiced and gathered; they gathered together against me.” Psa 35.15 His faith in God was derided; and his returns of kindness to them were scorned. Overwhelmed with difficulty, and seeing no way whereby he could extricate himself, he looks up to his God, and with an intensity of earnestness he prays, “Contend, O LORD, with those who contend with me; fight against those who fight against me! Take hold of shield and buckler and rise for my help! Say to my soul, “I am your salvation!” Psa 35.1-3

But here a fresh trial and unexpected disappointment meets him. The Lord seems deaf to his cry. Not only does man persecute him, but the very God in whom is all his trust, seems to have forgotten him. Earth is ready to swallow him up, and heaven seems like brass above him. Now his misery is at its utmost, now his cup of sorrow received the bitterest drop of gall: the last weight his wounded spirit can bear has been placed upon it, and in an agony he cries, “How long, O Lord, will you look on?” Let his position at this moment be our theme for meditation this morning. We will notice — first, a trying experience — secondly, a cry of anguish — and in the third place we will try and give some comforting answers.

I. First then — we have a trying experience.

Let us try to grasp its nature. Notice that it was not that he doubted whether the Lord saw his trouble. Far from it; for in the twenty-second verse he says (in reference to his persecution) “You have seen, O LORD.” Psa 35.22 David was far too deeply aware of the omniscience of God to entertain for a moment the thought that God was ignorant of his situation. This sin of unbelief is a sin that Israel fell into when it said, “My way is hidden from the LORD, and my right is disregarded by my God.” Isa 40.27 No! this was not David’s trouble; his trial was that God only seemed to see, and nothing more. He felt as if the Lord was only a spectator of his difficulty, not the deliverer from it. His eye saw, but his right hand did not come to the rescue.

Perhaps an illustration will help make the meaning plainer. David was fighting in a valley. His enemies were many: their weapons deadly. He felt it to be awful odds. The fight had been going on for a long time, and he had bravely kept his ground. Not one enemy had seen him retreat! He is determined that they never will. Grasping the sword with both hands, he swings it like a giant would swing a reed, and at every blow an enemy sinks down to rise no more. Brave blow!! Well struck!! Manfully fought!! we cry, as we gaze upon the conflict.

But now the numbers begin to swell: they roll towards him like a flood, and though fighting like a lion, he is gradually beaten back; step by step. Everything begins to swim around him; his hand feels as if it were grown into the sword hilt, and his blows begin to lose their fury. Anxiously he looks to the hill-top, where in a halo of glory stands his Lord; all day long he has been there, and all day long David has waited to hear the shout, “To the Rescue.” It was this expectation that fuelled is vigour, and filled his heart with courage.

Hour after hour had passed, and still the Lord looks on; and now he feels it must be all over in a few moments; the enemy’s steel gleams in his face, their weapons clash by his ear. Now or never! and a cry rings over the battlefield, “Lord, how long will you look on?”

Or to describe the experience by another illustration which may be closer to home for some. David was being swept away in a swollen river. He is out in mid-stream. The black waters are surging all around him, sometimes for a moment they gurgle in his throat. He strikes out strongly for the shore, but despite all his efforts, he is hurried at a race-horse speed towards a great waterfall ahead, down which the waters roar. Many times, he has been sucked down underneath by the eddies, and as often risen again, to see his Lord on the bank, witnessing his peril. And now the thunder of the great waterfall can be heard each moment more distinctly. The waters seem to laugh as they hurl him along. He can no longer put up with the agony, and the cry of desperation is heard above the flood, “Lord, how long will you look on?”

This trying experience, when the Lord seems to be only a spectator of our misery, is not David’s alone, but also that of most (if not of all) saints during some part of their Christian life. Have we not sometimes passed through it ourselves; and do we not find its best illustration in the records of our own memory, or perhaps in the feelings of our own heart this morning?

1. It is often the experience of the saint in his struggles with sin.

The old nature seems to have gained fresh strength. Old sins we imagined long since put to death, revive. Rebel lusts we thought we had long ago nailed to the cross, appear in the field against us. The waters of iniquity we supposed securely dammed up, break out afresh, and we tremble for fear that we should be swept away before their power. A fresh revelation is made to us of the depravity of our own hearts. We hate the sins, and war against them. We loath the iniquity of our hearts, and struggle against the tide; yet, despite all, we sometimes feel we are losing ground in the fight, and are being carried on by the stream. Horror-struck, and dreading the very thought of a fall, we cry “Plead my cause, O Lord!”

And echo the words of one hymn writer:

“Almighty King of saints,

These tyrant lusts subdue:

Drive the old serpent from his seat,

And all my powers renew.”

And yet for the time our prayers seem unanswered; our corrupt nature seems no weaker, and the new man appears no stronger. We dare not leave off fighting. Hoping for a rescue, we still continue struggling on, until at last, sick with fear and, as it seems, at the very end of our strength, we exclaim, “Lord, how long will you look on?” How trying an experience this is, only those know who have passed through it, or who perhaps are passing through it now; who have waited, and are waiting still for their Lord to put their foes beneath their feet.

2. It is frequently the experience of the saint in relation to his troubles.

The religion of Jesus brings no exemption from trial; indeed, often on the contrary, the holiest seem the most tried. Have we not all known some whose piety could never be doubted, and yet who always seemed to be walking under the deep shadow of some cloud; or to come nearer home, perhaps there are some among us now, who love the Lord with all their hearts, and are yet pressed almost beyond measure.

There are some whose experience has been a second Job’s; who have scarcely realized one calamity before another has overtaken them; hardly escaped from one wave and just feeling the shore, before a larger billow has swept over their head. Losses, crosses, and bereavements, have followed one another, thick and fast. If the trial has not been in the body it has been in the family; if not in the family it has been in the business; if not in the business in something else.

They (as we pictured David) have been sucked down by the strong eddies of life over and over again, always struggling to get on firm ground, yet always in the mid-stream of trouble. It is with a heavy heart they come up to the house of God in the morning, and that which perplexes them the most is, that God only seems to “look on.”

They have been expecting a rescue from on high for months and years. They have told many, “they are certain they will be helped out of all.” They have encouraged their own heart many a time, in their efforts to encourage others, but the deliverance has not come yet to them. Things, if not worse with them, are quite as bad as ever. “Hope deferred makes the heart sick.” Pro 13.12 Many have found it to be so, and with fainting spirit perhaps there are some here this morning crying out, “Lord, how long will you look on?”

3. It is perhaps most often the experience of the saint in relation to his prayers.

It is difficult to believe that delays are not denials.

Archibald Brown relates how a member of his congregation once came to him in great trouble about this very thing; she had herself been recently converted in this place, he relates, and had become, as was most natural, exceedingly anxious about her husband; he was at the time abroad, being a sailor. Full of the joy that faith in Jesus gives, she wrote and told him of the blessed change she had experienced, and begged him to seek the same: she never for a moment doubted that the prayers accompanying the letter would be answered; anxiously she waited for the return letter which was to confirm her hopes, and bitter was her disappointment when it arrived; it had never entered her thoughts that God might try her faith by keeping her waiting for a time before the answer came; so she came to me to know “what was she to do?”

“What,” I said, “has your faith failed because your first attempt has not been crowned with success; why there will be scores in the Church next Sunday whose faith has not only received one rebuff, but hundreds, who are still waiting and praying, praying and waiting.” And is it not so? Are there not some here now, who have prayed and prayed, again and again, and yet “the heavens seem like brass” above them? Even the cloud “no bigger than a man’s hand” has not yet risen. Over and over again, when you have felt more than ordinary power at the mercy-seat, you have arisen from your knees and said “now I think I have it;” and yet in a few days you have received the answered “no;” and this has now lasted not only for months, but years.

There are parents who pleaded for their children’s conversion when they were but infants, and although the infants have grown to be men and women, the answer to those prayers is still in pending. Faith begins to stagger. Hope’s beams grow pale, and an element of almost despair mingles in the often-repeated cry. “Why doesn’t he answer?” is the question asked a thousand times, each time with a deeper anguish. Trying indeed is the experience of the saint, who while praying with steadfast perseverance, still feels as if his Lord only looked on; and often the heart expresses its sorrow in the language of David, “Lord, how long?”

4. In the last place on this point. It is often the experience of the servant of Christ.

Most humbly, and with deep gratitude to God from whom alone the blessing has come, Brown could acknowledge that such had not been his experience. When this sermon was first preached in 1868 in the last month of his second year’s pastorate, he could not but look back through the two years passed by with great wonder and thankfulness. God had been pleased to give them as a church such prosperity as is given to few; he had permitted them to reap with one hand while they had sown with the other. The converts were not numbered by tens only but by hundreds. It is God’s work and his only, he would acknowledge, and at his feet he would delight to cast all the glory.

But there are many of God’s servants who have been called to toil and labour on with but little encouragement. How many there are whose studies have echoed with their sighs and prayers, whose voices have trembled with earnestness while imploring men “to be reconciled with God” 2 Cor 5.20 and who have yet done scarcely anything else than drive the plough and scatter the seed, without the joy of bringing any great harvest home.

They are preparing the soil for others, and perhaps long after they have gone to their reward, someone else will “enter into their labours” John 4.38 and reap the corn which they scattered and watered with many bitter tears. Such labour as this requires much grace. It is comparatively easy to work when the reward is given almost every day, when the tears are those of grateful joy, not of bitter disappointment; but to labour on and on and on, amid a thousand discouragements and but little to console, is terribly hard. All honor to the men who do so; for of all the trials God’s ministers are called to bear (and they are many) the greatest is to feel as if his Master were only a spectator of his labours, and only a onlooker upon his efforts.

And so we see how David is not alone in this trial; but that it is shared and will be shared by saints in all ages. Let us now notice in the second place,

II. The cry of anguish.

“Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks,” Mat 12.34 and poor David could no longer restrain the cry, “Lord, how long?” The soul feels it can no longer bear in silence the wearying suspense, its agony finds vent in the exclamation “How long?” Now this cry is either right or wrong in accordance with the spirit in which it is uttered. It is unquestionably sinful when it is,

1. The language of bitterness, when the soul has become soured instead of sanctified by the affliction; when hard thoughts concerning God arise in the heart; when the soul ceases to say with Job, “Though he slay me, I will hope in him.” Job 13.15

When the real interpretation of the cry is “Have not I waited long enough? What is the use of my waiting any longer; might I not just as well give up fighting, praying, or working altogether.” This is the language of a rebel, not of a child; and yet, are there many who would dare to say that such thoughts have never for a moment either entered or been harboured in the heart? Sadly! Perhaps in the bitterness of our souls we have cried, “how long.”

2. It is also wrong when it is the language of deep despondency. In this case the soul does not murmur against the dealings of God; it feels too acutely its utter unworthiness to receive the slightest tokens of his favour. It knows that were all its desires denied, it would be nothing more than it deserves: it feels that as Hell was what it rightfully deserves, anything less than Hell must be a mercy, yet, at the same time, it longs for the blessing, the language of its heart is

“Lord, I hear of showers of blessing

You are scattering full and free;

Showers the thirsty land refreshing,

Let some drops now fall on me.

Even me.” (Hymn 793)

And when this blessing is delayed for some time, and the Lord only seems to “look on,” its trembling faith is almost completely overthrown. The frail flower droops its head, and the trembling heart exclaims, “Lord, how long will you look on? I begin to fear that you will never come, and that I will die while you are looking on.” But it is a right cry when it is,

3. The language of intense desire, when it means “Lord, I have waited long, and I am waiting still, and I will wait your time, however long it is. I Have no harsh thoughts toward you Lord, ; I know you are too wise to err, too good to be unkind.

“I believe you will come to my rescue; I have no doubt of that. But oh, if it please you, come now, even when my enemies say, ‘there is no help for him in God.’ Lord, prove there is. Make my enemies and yours, liars before you. Come to my help. “O God, arise, and let all these fears of mine be scattered. your servant waits, he prays, he fights, he works, and by your help will still do so; but come, Lord, come, and show that I am your servant, let it be seen that you are at my right hand; Please, vindicate your honour, and declare that you are a God who hears prayer.” Psa 65.2

“So shall this heart be made glad. Lord, hear this cry, ‘how long will you look on?’ Come soon to rescue me.”

III. Finally, in the third place, let us consider some comforting answers.

“Lord, how long will you look on?”

1. Long enough to try your faith. The Lord loves to strengthen the faith of his people, and faith gains strength by being put to the test. The furious wind, that threatens to uproot the young sapling, only makes it strike its roots deeper in the earth. The winter wind is as necessary for its stability as the summer’s heat is for its growth. Our faith was never intended to be a hot house plant, but a giant tree able to defy the mighty storm.

Anything, therefore, that puts our faith to the test is a blessing; to prove this, consider a text well known, but generally misunderstood, “The tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold.” 1 Peter 1.7 Now, how often is this text quoted to prove only the preciousness of faith, whereas it teaches much more; namely, that not only is faith precious, but faith’s trial also; that the very fact of having our faith tested is no matter for sorrow, but rejoicing. Now the Lord looks on until he sees that the faith of his child has been sufficiently tried, and that the trial has sufficiently strengthened that faith. Then he works out a deliverance. May not this give the clue to the mystery of some present, why the Lord has not helped before? He is “looking on” for the strengthening of your faith.

“Lord, how long will you look on?”

2. Long enough to teach you your own weakness. There is still an immense amount of self ignorance in us all; particularly of our own weakness; and that weakness is only learned in the painful school of experience. We think we can do this, and do that, and do the other, and nothing will persuade us of our mistake; so the Lord lets us try our own resources, and find out experientially, that of ourselves we can do nothing; he watches our proud endeavours, and withholds his help, until beaten at every point, and our pride thoroughly humbled, we learn the truth of the text “apart from me you can do nothing;” John 15.5 then the lesson being taught, he no longer looks on, but rescues.

“Lord, how long will you look on?”

3. Long enough to make you value the deliverance. That which is easily obtained is little valued. The longer the water is waited for, the sweeter it tastes: the greater the hunger, the greater the gratitude for food. The Lord “waits to be gracious” Is 30.18 in order to make us put a higher price on his mercy. Long tried soul , you will value your Lord’s deliverance when it comes, all the more for having so often cried ”how long?”

“Lord, how long will you look on?”

4. Until the right moment. Not a moment too soon for his own glory; not a moment too late for your good. Our clock is always too fast, we call upon the Lord and say, “Lord, now is the time, the hour to deliver has arrived:” but no answer comes, because he does not keep his time by ours; and his clock still trails some minutes to the hour; but when that hour has struck, swift as the lightning flash he is at our side; the tide of battle turns; the enemies melt away like mist before the rising sun; we are snatched in a moment from midstream, our feet are placed upon a rock, our goings are established, and a new song is put upon our lips.

Trust him then, believer, and even while you cry “Lord, how long?” obey the prophet’s words.

“If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay.” Hab 2.3

May the Lord add his blessing to this word, for Jesus’ sake.