Discouragement in Christian preaching often addresses the struggles believers face when hope and faith wane amid trials. Illustrations use images of spiritual drought, emotional emptiness, and weariness, emphasizing perseverance and reliance on Scripture to overcome unbelief and despair (Galatians 6:9, Isaiah 40:31). It highlights the need for renewed strength and trust in God's sustaining power.
Nine common spiritual mistakes hinder trust in God's providence and peace of mind.
Remorse over yesterday's failure. Anxiety over today's problems. Worry over tomorrow's uncertainty. Procrastination with one's present duty. Resentment of another's success. Criticism of a neighbor's imperfections. Impatience with youth's imperfection. Skepticism of our nation's future. Unbelief in God's providence.
Hidden hurts can harm faith, but like Job, believers can choose joy and perseverance.
Rejections, defeats, and failures that all of us have experienced can create enough negative feelings to destroy us. Be careful! Often the most painful wounds are not the scars that are outwardly seen, but the hidden wounds deep in the heart. Being hidden, they are often the most dangerous. Setbacks in our lives can take the joy out of living. Our faith is weakened, and if we collect enough hurts it will stop us from wanting to press forward. Even success can make one the target of criticism. Do not let the hurts hurt you! Look at Job. A man of the land of Uz, blameless, upright, one who feared God, and one who turned away from evil. Job had seven sons and three daughters, a beautiful family. He was considered "the greatest of all the men of the east." He lost it all in the twinkling of an eye. He lost his health, wealth, and family. He hurt. His wife hurt. His friends hurt. He was knocked down but not out. He had lost some of the passionate power to grow and some of his enthusiasm had diminished, but he checked his negative thinking and that of his wife and friends and stated, "I will forget my complaint, I will leave off my sad countenance and be cheerful." How could he after undergoing so much hurt? Along the shoreline in California it is a common sight to see whales stopping alongside rocks as they migrate from Alaska to Mexico to scrape off barnacles. In our lifetime we also will pick up a collection of personal barnacles that will attach themselves like parasites sapping the life out of us. They must be scraped off. How did Job do it? The same way we can do it-through faith. Faith is the only thing that can heal the hurts. Job scraped the barnacles off. It was painful! The scars would remain but his life was put back together. Strong belief in God was the medicine. His wife and his friends could not do it-only God could! Job said, "I know that you [God] can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted" (Job 42:2). Paul told the Corinthians, "...God will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear...he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it" (1 Corinthians 10:13). The Lord blessed the latter days of Job (Job 42:12) with great material blessings, and it was said of his new daughters that "in all the land no women were found so fair...." Job lived 140 years after the hurts and saw sons, grandsons, great-grandsons, and great-great-grandsons. You can also forget your hurts, leave off your sad countenance, and be cheerful if you turn to God for your strength to do so.
Self-pity arises when we feel our best efforts are unappreciated, like Moses.
Have you ever said that as a pastor? You have done your very best and yet your very best has not found acceptance with the people you serve. You may be just like Moses. The children of Israel were unreasonable. Having grown tired of manna everyday, they chided Moses for not giving them meat to eat. Moses was angry. "I have had it with these rebels," he complained. "I have done my very best, and this is the thanks I get." Was Moses feeling sorry for himself? Indeed! He did not think God was being fair. He felt sure he deserved better than he was getting (Numbers 11:10-15). The feeling that we deserve better than we are getting always seems to be the basis of self-pity.
Filling the mind with Scripture prevents harmful self-focused thoughts and mental depression.
"The mind is like a mill: when it wanteth corn it grindeth upon itself." And this is the cause of much of the mental depression which afflicts mankind; many people have nothing to think of outside of themselves, and so their thoughts prey upon their own hearts. Occupation is the remedy for many an internal sorrow. The study of the Scriptures would prevent brooding over imaginary ills. Try it, good friend, and see! Fill the hopper of thy mind's mill with holy instruction, and thou shalt get for thyself good corn instead of wear and tear and grit.
We often magnify small troubles by impatience and unbelief until they overwhelm us.
One mild winter day, some boys had made a snowball, and rolled it along until it had grown too large and heavy for them to move. "Here," said Gotthold, "we have an agreeable emblem of human cares. These are often little and insignificant; but we magnify them, by impatience and unbelief, till they become greater than we can bear. Many a one keeps, night and day, revolving his trouble in his mind to no better purpose than these boys. All they accomplish by their gains is to set up for those who pass a sign that children have been at play; and he gains nothing by this but a head more confused, and a heart more sorrowful than before."
A troubled mind filled with worldly cares cannot engage in holy prayer or worship.
Like as when a river or fountain is troubled, there can no water be taken or drawn out of it, but such as is full of mud; even so, when the mind is troubled and choked with the over-careful and unquiet savor of the mire and dirt of this peevish world, there can neither holy prayers nor any godly exercise be found there.
— Cawdray
Despair weakens courage and leads to defeat before the battle even begins.
Saul owed his defeat more to the malign influence of the Witch of Endor than to the arms of the Philistines. When she buried hope in his brave heart, she dug his grave; victory vanished with the mantled phantom: and when Saul, pale, haggard, his spirits depressed, his courage sunken as his eye, went to fight, he had no chance. The battle of Gilboa was lost before it was begun. # DEVIATION.
of ourselves. The bitter waters of Marah and Meribah that we drink so deep of are of our own mingling and imbittering; the rods that scourge us are of our own making; sin, like a friar, whips itself; punishment is connate, innate to sin. We may thank our own folly for our own bane. Spencer.
Enduring disappointment bravely is essential for spiritual progress and hope.
It is a trite saying, that disappointment is the hardest of all things to bear,—hardest, because it finds the soul unbraved to meet it, relaxed, at ease and tuned to indulgence and joy. Disappointment imbitters and maddens. It may be the smallest fraction of good,—a little morsel or delight which a wealthier or happier would spurn; no matter if it be but the killing of the prisoner's spider, or Mungo Park's bit of moss. No man with a man's heart in him gets far on his wilderness way without some bitter, soul-searching disappointment; happy he who is brave enough to push on another stage of the journey, and rest in Elim, where there are twelve springs,—living springs of water,—and threescore and ten palms!
— J. B. Brown
Disappointments may be God's discipline preparing us for future blessings.
True View of "Doomed to disappointment, as usual!"—"Do not say, 'as usual,' a soft voice replied "You sometimes are wonderfully prospered."—"Yes, I say, as usual," was the quick, angry response. "I find the path blocked up which ever way I turn: try hard as I may, something or other upsets all my plans. I might as well live up one time as another."—"Perhaps it isn't the right time," said the soft voice again; "may he God would prove you before he blesses you; perhaps he sees that you are not prepared for prosperity. We must take the blessings thankfully as they come, John, and the disappointments too, as part of his loving discipline. Every thing comes best in God's time."
Evils seem overwhelming from afar but are less insurmountable when faced closely.
Evils in the journey of life are like the hills which alarm travellers upon their road: they both appear great at a distance, but, when we approach them, we find that they are far less insurmountable than we had conceived. Colton.
Fame often brings loneliness and dissatisfaction despite initial pleasures.
"Save me from the horrors of a jail!" were almost the dying words of the poet Burns. Campbell, who wrote "The Pleasures of Hope," speaks in this melancholy strain: "I am alone in the world. My wife and the child of my hopes are dead. My only surviving child is consigned to a living tomb,—a lunatic asylum. My last hopes are blighted. As for fame, it is a bubble that must soon burst. Earned for others, shared with others, it was sweet; but at my age, to my own solitary experience, it is bitter. Left in my chamber alone with myself, is it wonderful my philosophy at times takes flight; that I rush into company, resort to that which blunts, but heals no pang; and then, sick of the world, and dissatisfied with myself, shrink back into solitude?"
Fame and worldly success can end in despair without a life of prayer and God.
The illustrious statesman William Pitt, the favorite of king and people, "died," says Wilberforce his friend, "of a broken heart." On his dying-bed, he is stated to have said, "I fear I have neglected prayer too much to make it available on a death-bed." Still more distressing was the closing scene of Sheridan's career. He who had stood on the pinnacle of glory, and gained the most flattering distinctions, writes, in old age, to one of his friends, "I am absolutely undone and broken-hearted." Misfortunes crowded on him; and his last moments were haunted by fears of a prison. Forsaken by his gay associates, dispirited, and world-weary, he closed his eyes in gloom and sorrow. Sir Walter Scott thus gives his dirge of life. Referring to his departure from Abbotsford, he writes, "When I think what this place now is, and what it has been not long ago, I think my heart will break. Some new object of complaint comes every moment; sicknesses come thicker and thicker; friends are fewer and fewer. The recollection of youth, health, and powers of activity neither improved nor enjoyed, is a poor strain of comfort. The best is, the long halt will arrive at length, and close all."
Silence is the best remedy for fretfulness, which fades when unexpressed.
Silence is the most effectual cure for fretfulness. A man who is fretful is like a cloudy day that cannot rain: in a little while, it will clear off. So a man that is fretful and peevish may look ugly; but if he holds his mouth tight, and gives no expression to it, after a while, it will clear up, — the mind will get in another quarter. There can be no doubt but the indulgence and expression of these feelings cultivate them, while with a disposition to restrain them they would grow weaker and weaker.
Fretting wastes time; productive work should replace worry after setbacks.
Two gardeners had their crops of peas killed by the frost; one of whom, who had fretted greatly, and grumbled at the loss, visiting his neighbor some time after, was astonished to see another fine crop growing, and inquired how it could be. "These are what I sowed while you were fretting," was the reply. "Why, don't you fret?"—"Yes; but I put it off till I have repaired the mischief."—"Why, then there's no need to fret at all."—"True: that's the reason I put it off."
Don't fret over what you can't change; act if you can help.
Never fret about what you can't help, because it won't do any good. Never fret about what you can help: because, if you can help it, do so. When you are tempted to grumble about any thing, ask yourself, "Can I help this?" and, if you can't, don't fret; but, if you can, do so.
Changing from grumbling to thankfulness brings joy, health, and a better outlook on life.
In a love-feast in Yorkshire, a good man had been drawing out a long complaining strain of experiences about his trials and difficulties in the way to heaven. Another, of a different spirit, followed, who said, "I see our brother who has just sat down lives in Grumbling Street. I lived there myself for some time, and never enjoyed good health. The air was bad, the house bad, the water bad; the birds never came and sung in the street; and I was gloomy and sad enough. But I 'lifted.' I got into Thanksgiving Street; and, ever since then, I have had good health, and so have my family. The air is pure, the water pure, the house good; the sun shines on it all day; the birds are always singing; and I am happy as I can live. Now, I recommend our brother to 'flit.' There are plenty of houses to let on Thanksgiving Street; and I am sure he will find himself a new man if he will only come; and I will be right glad to have him as a neighbor."
Foolish pursuits illustrate the futility of impractical efforts without God’s wisdom.
IMPRACTICABLE, Academy of the Gulliver's visit to the grand Academy of Lagado is a plain sarcasm on the impracticable. The academy embraced more than five hundred rooms, and every madman's dream was experimented upon there. One professor had been eight years trying to extract sunbeams from cucumbers, which he expected to bottle up to equalize the temperature of the rum-mors. Another was trying to manufacture gunpowder out of ice. Another had invented a new method of architecture, beginning at the roof, and building downwards. A blind man thought himself very proficient in mixing colors, in which he seems to have been somewhat mistaken. A learned professor experimented upon the use of hogs instead of ploughs in tilling the soil. "The universal artist" had fifty men at work softening marble for pillows, petrifying the hoofs of living horses to prevent foundering and the like. This professor was developing two new ideas, — the importance of sowing the land with chaff instead of wheat; and a method of preventing wool growing on the backs of sheep, of which he had not a doubt of success. All the numerous chairs of the academy were filled with like enthusiastic specialists.
Religious doubts can torment the mind, leading to despair and hidden spiritual insanity.
A gentleman who was at one time under my observation, used to depict the horrors of his spiritual condition in language that was at once graphic and appalling. He was harassed, as the religious insane often are, with fearful doubts and scepticism in regard to the truths of inspiration, the destiny of man, and other dark problems of existence; and neither the advice and sympathy of his friends, nor his own honest efforts, seemed to afford him any ray of hope or joy. He would represent himself as "hanging by one arm over the verge of a precipice; that his strength was gradually failing, and that he must soon fall, and be dashed to pieces; that he was surrounded on every side by a cordon of raging fires that were rapidly closing in upon him, and from which there could be no escape." All this time, he was pursuing his regular duties; and none of his friends suspected him of insanity. By my advice, he took an interval of rest; but, before a year elapsed, it was found necessary to send him to an asylum.
G. M. Beard, M. D.
Human life is marked by constant change and restlessness, never fully settled or content.
St. Augustine saith, "We are all here as David was in the Desert of Idumea: our life is a perpetual alteration, which will never be settled while we live. If we be weary, we desire rest; and, if we rest over-long, our bed becomes troublesome, though it should be all of roses. Then, again, we thirst to be in action and business, which, also, in a short time tires us, and puts us into another alteration; and that carries us again to desire to do nothing. All our life goeth like Penelope's web, — what one hour effects the next destroys." N. Causain.
Considering insults as insignificant over time prevents distress and preserves peace.
A person having behaved very rudely to Mr. Boswell, he went to Dr. Johnson, and talked of it as a serious distress. Dr. Johnson laughed, and said, "Consider, sir, how insignificant this will appear twelve months hence." — "Were this consideration (says Mr. Boswell) applied to most of the little vexations of life, by which our quiet is too often disturbed, it would prevent many painful sensations. I have tried it frequently, and with good effect."
Excessive sorrow questions God's existence despite faith in His eternal nature.
A lady, observing her husband deeply dejected on account of some misfortune, pretended to be still more disconsolate than he, and gave way to lamentations and tears. As she had before exhorted him to dismiss his sorrow, he was astonished, and asked the cause of her sudden grief. She replied, that she had been dreaming; and that it seemed to her that a messenger had come from heaven, and brought the news that God was dead, and that all the angels were weeping. "Foolish woman!" said the husband: "you know right well that God cannot die!"—"Indeed," replied the wife, "and, if that be so certain, how comes it that you are now indulging your sorrow as immoderately as if he really did no longer exist?" Gotthold
Small, simple pleasures can effectively combat melancholy and discouragement.
Never give way to melancholy, resist it steadily; for the habit will encroach. I once gave a lady two and twenty receipts against melancholy one was a bright fire; another, to remember all the pleasant things said to her; another to keep a box of sugar-plums on the chimney piece, and a kettle simmering on the hob. I thought this mere trifling at the moment, but have, in after-life, discovered how true it is that these little pleasures often banish melancholy better than higher and more exalted objects and that no means ought to be thought too trifling which can oppose it, either in ourselves or in others. Sydney Smith
Neglecting one's soul can lead to hopelessness and spiritual death despite orthodox belief.
A pastor relates, that he once visited an interesting family, the father of which advised him to leave the old alone, and devote his labors to the young; saying, that, forty years ago, he was anxious about his soul, but now felt that he was a lost sinner, and beyond hope: he had no more feeling than a block of marble, and should die as he had lived. He was a true prophet of his own fate, and, though orthodox in faith, was laid in a hopeless grave.
Without marking time by events or thoughts, years can pass unnoticed like a painful dream.
When the famous Baron de Trench came out of his dark dungeon in Magdeburg, where he could not distinguish night from day, and in which the King of Prussia had kept him imprisoned for ten years, he imagined that he had been in it for a much shorter period, because he had no means of marking how the time had passed, and he had seen no new events, and had had even few thoughts. His astonishment was extreme when he was told how many years had thus passed away like a painful dream.
— L. Gaussen
Lifeless meetings can cause doubt and discourage faith in religion and believers.
Before I knew any thing experimentally of religion, said a young convert in Rhode Island, I used often to attend conference and prayer-meetings, and when Christians were engaged and the time improved, I could not but be interested and carry away impressions strongly in favor of religion. But when they spoke of its being a heavy cross for them to speak or pray before others, I could not understand them. It seemed that if I were such as they professed to be, it would be no cross to me, but a pleasure. And when I attended social meetings where the exercises dragged heavily, I felt uninterested—displeased. As I went away from such meetings, my mind was darkened with skeptical suspicions and doubts. Can these Christians, thought I, have such joy in religion, such love for Christ, as they sometimes express, and yet be so backward and silent? Is their fountain of enjoyment so poor, so inconstant as this? How much can such a religion be worth? Can there be any thing divine and substantial in it? This would be the course of my reflections; such lifeless services not only destroyed my interest in attending such meetings, but shook my confidence in professors of religion, and in religion itself!
# 89. Noble Examples of Confession.
A sincere Christian struggles with doubt and loss of comfort near death due to worldly focus.
BED.—Sometimes, says the late Rev. R. Cecil, in his valuable "Remains," we have a painful part to do with sincere Christians who have been going too much into the world. I was called upon to visit such a man. "I find no comfort," said he, "God veils his face from me. Every thing round me is dark and uncertain." I did not dare to act the flatterer; I said, "Let us look faithfully into the state of things. I should have been surprised if you had not felt thus. I believe you to be sincere; your state of feeling evinces your sincerity. Had I found you exulting in God, I should have concluded that you were either deceived or a deceiver; for, while God acts in his usual order, how could you expect to feel otherwise on the approach of death than you do feel? You have driven hard after the world; your spirit has been absorbed in its cares; your sentiments, your conversation have been in the spirit of the world. And have you any reason to expect the repose of conscience, and the clear evidence that awaits the man who has walked and lived in close friendship with God? You know that what I say is true."
His wife here interrupted me, by assuring me that he had been an excellent man. "Silence!" said the dying penitent, "it is all true."
Spiritual discouragement can feel like being out of tune, needing Jesus to restore harmony.
A minister calling to visit a lady, was detained a long time while she was dressing. At length she made her appearance, bedized in all the frippery of fashion and folly. The minister was in tears. She asked the a burden to my friends. I entered into a hurtful train of perplexing reasoning, then of doubt, distrust, and fear. I have grieved the Spirit of God, and he has hid his face from me, and I am troubled. I have lost my confidence in God and am now in darkness and despair.'
"I remarked, 'My dear brother, I clearly see your case. Your mind, as well as your body, is debilitated, and the enemy has taken advantage of your weakness to harass and distress you. In your present circumstances, you are not capable of reasoning with him, or of steadfastly resisting him: he is too cunning for you, and too strong. But lift up your heart to the Lord; venture to look unto Jesus, who will soon bruise him under your feet who is thus painfully bruising your heel. You are just like a musical instrument when all its strings are slackened. If you try to play, there are only discordant sounds; not because it is a bad instrument, but because it is out of tune.'
"He replied with earnestness, 'Do you really think so, sir?' 'Yes, I know that it is so. Because you are so unhinged and slackened in your nervous system, you are ready to imagine that the Lord is disaffected towards you, and that his mercy is clean gone for ever. But, oh, venture to call upon him in your trouble and distress; looking unto Jesus who suffered, being tempted, and who knoweth how to succor them that are tempted; and he will most certainly deliver you, and you shall praise him.'
"We then prayed together, and he was greatly encouraged. In a short time afterwards he was completely set at liberty from all his fears, and was filled with joy and peace in believing."
# RESS.
cause of his grief; when he replied, "I weep, madam, to think that an immortal being should spend so much of that precious time, which was given her to prepare for eternity, in thus vainly adorning that body which must so soon become a prey to worms."
Critical remarks can quench spiritual impressions, showing the need for prayerful encouragement.
FINDING.—The Rev. Mr. Beckwith says:—"I was once conversing with a young and successful minister of the gospel, who related to me the following circumstances. When he was quite a child, he heard a minister preach on repentance. This was on the forenoon of a Sabbath. His feelings were excited, and he had almost determined, before the conclusion of the sermon, to perform the duty without delay. In this state of mind he went to the house of God in the afternoon, and heard the same minister on the judgment. He was still more deeply impressed, and came to the resolution to attend to religion immediately. But, as he passed from the sanctuary, he overheard two professing Christians conversing on the sermon. 'A very solemn discourse,' said one. 'Yes,' replied the other, but—' and he proceeded to make some critical remark, the effect of which was, for that time at least, to erase all serious impressions from the mind of the youth.' How often do we witness this evil!
A humble minister finds satisfaction in usefulness despite personal discouragement.
The Rev. Ambrose Morton was generally esteemed a good scholar, and remarkably humble, sanctified, and holy, but was inclined to melancholy, to his own discouragement. In his younger days, when he was assistant to another minister, some good people, in his hearing, speaking of their conversion, and ascribing it under God to that minister's preaching, he seemed cast down, as if he were of no use. A sensible countryman, who was present, and who had a particular value for his ministry, made this observation for his encouragement: "An ordinary workman may hew down timber, but it must be an accomplished artist that shall frame it for the building." Mr. M. therefore rose up, and cheerfully replied, "If I am of any use, I am satisfied." Indeed his preaching was always solid and judicious, and highly esteemed by all but himself; and was especially useful to experienced Christians.
God’s word can renew a discouraged minister’s zeal and resolve to continue preaching.
After the Rev. John Clark, of Trowbridge, had been engaged in the ministry for a few years, his mind became greatly depressed with a view of its responsibility, a sense of his own inability, and the want of more success. At length these discouragements were so oppressive, that he assured some Christian friends, one Sabbath afternoon, that he could preach no longer. In vain did they try to remove his difficulties, or to persuade him at least to address the congregation that evening, as no supply could be obtained. He declared his positive inability to preach any more. At this moment a pious old woman applied to speak to the minister. Being admitted, she requested him to preach from that text, "Then I said, I will speak no more in his name: but his word was in my heart as a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I was weary with forbearing, and I could not stay," Jer. 20: 9. She stated that she did not know where the words were, but that her mind was so much impressed with them, that she could not forbear to request him to preach from them that evening. Being satisfied that she was entirely unacquainted with the circumstances which had just transpired, Mr. Clark was assured that Providence had thus interposed that he should continue his ministry. He preached that evening from the text thus given, and never afterwards was greatly distressed on the subject.
A discouraged minister’s thrown-away sermon was later used by God to awaken a soul.
Mr. Trowt's anxiety in the anticipation of the public services, had been distressing; and the trepidation of his mind was such, while conducting it, that he went home sorrowful. The aged widow of a minister endeavored to encourage him. "Do not fear," she said: "my husband once came down stairs, complaining, that it was no use for him to attempt to study any longer; and threw what he had written into the fire. I immediately took it out, and said, "No, you ought not to burn it—do not be dejected—God will be better to you than your fears!" Animated by his wife, the good man re-entered his study. He composed another sermon on the occasion, which was the means of awakening a person who heard it, to serious attention to religion; and when he afterwards preached the sermon, which he had, in dejection of mind thrown in the fire, that sermon was also attended with a like blessing from God.
A father nearly gave up family worship after children remained unconverted but prayed once more.
The Rev. A. D. Merrill states that there was once a pious father with seven children, who had maintained the worship of God in his family, until all his children had grown up to manhood, and womanhood, and not one of them had been as yet converted to God. At last the old man's faith began to fail, in relation to the promise; and growing "weary and faint in his mind," he resolved to give up his family worship, and confine his devotions to the closet, and to leave his children to do as they pleased. But before he finally proceeded to do this, he concluded to call his children together once again, to pray with them, and explain to them his reasons for this course. Being assembled, and taking up the "old family Bible," from which he had so often read to them "the words of eternal life," he thus addressed them:—"My children, you know that from your earliest recollection I have been accustomed to call you together around this altar, for family worship. I have endeavored to instruct you in the ways of the Lord, and to imbue your minds with the truth. But you have all grown up, and not one of you is converted to God. You are yet in your sins, and show no signs of penitence. I feel discouraged, and have concluded to make no further efforts for your salvation—to demolish my family altar—to confine my own devotions to my closet, and thus to endeavor still to work out my own salvation, while I leave you to yourselves." Upon his speaking thus, first one and then another fell upon their knees, until they were all bowed before God, and besought him, that he would not do as he had resolved, but, that he would still continue to pray for them, and that he would do it now; for they were now ready to give their hearts to God. He bowed with them. The Spirit descended according to the promise, and before they rose from their knees, they were all made happy in God. One of their number who was married, and away from home, upon returning on a visit, and hearing what great things the Lord had done for the rest of the family, likewise immediately submitted to God, and thus were they all saved, and the covenant promise fulfilled.
Everything we make is available for free because of a generous community of supporters.
Donate