The Way to God and How to Find ItMoody, Dwight Lyman
Religion
The Way to God and How to Find It
Moody, Dwight Lyman
Evangelistic sermons; Sermons, American
It is hard to make a sinner believe in this unchangeable love of God.
When a man has wandered away from God he thinks that God hates him.
We must make a distinction between sin and the sinner. God loves the
sinner; but He hates the sin. He hates sin, because it mars human
life. It is just because God loves the sinner that He hates sin.
God's love is not only unchangeable, but _unfailing_. In Isaiah xlix.
15, 16 we read: "Can a woman forget her sucking child that she should
not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget; yet
will I not forget thee. Behold I have graven thee upon the palms of
My hands; thy walls are continually before Me."
Now the strongest human love that we know of is a _mother's love_.
Many things will separate a man from his wife. A father may turn his
back on his child; brothers and sisters may become inveterate
enemies; husbands may desert their wives; wives, their husbands. But
a mother's love endures through all. In good repute, in bad repute,
in the face of the world's condemnation, a mother loves on, and hopes
that her child may turn from his evil ways and repent. She remembers
the infant smiles, the merry laugh of childhood, the promise of
youth; and she can never be brought to think him unworthy. Death
cannot quench a mother's love; it is stronger than death.
You have seen a mother watching over her sick child. How willingly
she would take the disease into her own body if she could thus
relieve her child! Week after week she will keep watch; she will let
no one else take care of that sick child.
A friend of mine, some time ago, was visiting in a beautiful home
where he met a number of friends. After they had all gone away,
having left something behind, he went back to get it. There he found
the lady of the house, a wealthy lady, sitting behind a poor fellow
who looked like a tramp. _He was her own son_. Like the prodigal, he
had wandered far away: yet the mother said, "This is my boy; I love
him still." Take a mother with nine or ten children, if one goes
astray, she seems to love that one more than any of the rest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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