I don’t know how a believer in their 20s or 30s, even 40s and 50s might respond to this morning’s devotional from Charles Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening, but at 64 years of age I can report that it strikes a chord in me. Even in the midst of many trials I find that God is always faithful to see me through them while calming my anxieties.
Having come to fullness of faith in my 40s, I can only speculate how it might have struck me if I had read it as a believer in my younger days.
I also cannot give a first-hand account of the light that comes at one’s hour of death, but in reading of the experiences of others who have passed through that period, I am confident that it will be a time of joyful experience.
Here’s this morning’s devotional:
C. H. Spurgeon
This Morning’s Meditation
“At evening time—it shall be light.” Zechariah 14:7
Oftentimes we look with forebodings to the time of old age, forgetful that at evening time—it shall be light. To many saints, old age is the choicest season in their lives. A balmier air fans the mariner’s cheek as he nears the shore of immortality, fewer waves ruffle his sea, quiet reigns—deep, still and solemn. From the altar of old age—the flashes of the fire of youth are gone—but the more real flame of earnest love to Jesus remains. The pilgrims have reached the land of Beulah, that happy country, whose days are as the days of heaven upon earth. Angels visit it, celestial gales blow over it, flowers of paradise grow in it, and the air is filled with seraphic music. Some dwell here for years, and others come to it but a few hours before their departure—but it is an Eden on earth.
We may well long for the time—when we shall recline in its shady groves and be satisfied with hope—until the time of fruition comes. The setting sun seems larger than when high in the sky, and a splendor of glory tinges all the clouds which surround its going down. Pain does not break not the calm of the sweet twilight of old age, for strength made perfect in weakness, bears up with patience under it all. Ripe fruits of choice experience are gathered as the rare meal of life’s evening, and the soul prepares itself for rest.
The Lord’s people shall also enjoy light in the hour of death. Unbelief laments; the shadows fall, the night is coming, existence is ending. “Ah no!” cries faith, “the night is far spent, the true day is at hand. Light is come, the light of immortality, the light of the Father’s countenance!”
Gather up your feet in the bed, see the waiting bands of spirits! Angels waft you away. Farewell, beloved one, you are gone—you wave your hand. Ah, now it is light. The pearly gates are open, the golden streets shine in the jasper light. We on earth, cover our eyes—but you behold the unseen! Adieu, brother, you have light at even-tide, such as we have not yet!