A Sermon by the Rev. Charles H. Spurgeon   Do You Know Him? - Philippians 3:10 (Preached at the Metropolitan Tabernacle, London, January 31st, 1864)  “That I may know him” (Phil. 3:10, KJV) The   objective   of   the   apostle’s   life—that   for   which   he sacrificed       everything—country,       kindred,       honor, comfort,   liberty,   and   life   itself,   was   that   he   might   know Christ!    Observe    that    this    is    not    Paul’s    prayer    as    an unconverted   man—that   he   may   know   Christ,   and   so be      saved—for      it      follows      upon      the      previous supplication   that   he   might   win   Christ,   and   be   found   in Him.   This   is   the   desire   of   one   who   has   been   saved, who    enjoys    the    full    conviction    that    his    sins    are pardoned,    and    that    he    is    in    Christ.    It    is    only    the regenerated   and   saved   man   who   can   feel   the   desire, “That   I   may   know   Him.”   Are   you   astonished   that   a saved    man    should    have    such    a    desire    as    this?    A moment’s    reflection    will    remove    your    astonishment. Imagine   for   a   moment   that   you   are   living   in   the   age   of the    Roman    emperors.    You    have    been    captured    by Roman     soldiers,     and     dragged     from     your     native country;    you    have    been    sold    for    a    slave,    stripped, whipped,     branded,     imprisoned,     and     treated     with shameful   cruelty.   At   last   you   are   appointed   to   die   in the   amphitheatre,   to   make   holiday   for   a   tyrant.   The populace   assembles   with   delight;   there   they   are,   tens of   thousands   of   them,   gazing   down   from   the   living sides   of   the   spacious   Coliseum.   You   stand   alone   and naked,    armed    only    with    a    single    dagger—a    poor defense   against   gigantic   beasts.   A   ponderous   door   is drawn   up   by   machinery,   and   there   rushes   forth   the monarch   of   the   forest—a   huge   lion!   You   must   slay   him or   be   torn   to   pieces;   you   are   absolutely   certain   that   the conflict   is   too   stern   for   you,   and   that   the   sure   result must   and   will   be   that   those   terrible   teeth   will   grind your   bones   and   drip   with   your   blood.   You   tremble; your   joints   are   loosed;   you   are   paralyzed   with   fear,   like the    timid    deer    when    the    lion    has    dashed    it    to    the ground.    But    what    is    this?    O    wonder    of    mercy!—a deliverer   appears! A   great   unknown   leaps   from   among the     gazing     multitude,     and     confronts     the     savage monster!   He   quails   not   at   the   roaring   of   the   devourer, but    dashes    upon    him    with    terrible    fury,    till,    like    a whipped   cur,   the   lion   slinks   towards   his   den,   dragging himself   along   in   pain   and   fear.   The   hero   lifts   you   up, smiles   into   your   bloodless   face,   whispers   comfort   in your   ear,   and   bids   you   be   of   good   courage,   for   you   are free! Do   you   not   think   that   there   would   arise   at   once   in your   heart   a   desire   to   know   your   deliverer?   As   the guards   conducted   you   into   the   open   street,   and   you breathed    the    cool,    fresh    air,    would    not    the    first question   be,   “Who   was   my   deliverer,   that   I   may   fall   at his     feet     and     bless     him?”     You     are     not,     however, informed,   but   instead   of   it,   you   are   gently   led   away   to a    noble    mansion,    where    your    many    wounds    are washed   and   healed   with   salve   of   rarest   power.   You   are clothed    in    sumptuous    apparel;    you    are    made    to    sit down   at   a   feast;   you   eat   and   are   satisfied;   you   rest upon    the    softest    down.    The    next    morning    you    are attended   by   servants   who   guard   you   from   evil   and minister   to   your   good.   Day   after   day,   week   after   week, your   needs   are   supplied.   You   live   like   a   courtier.   There is   nothing   that   you   can   ask   which   you   do   not   receive.   I am    sure    that    your    curiosity    would    grow    more    and more    intense    till    it    would    ripen    into    an    insatiable craving!   You   would   scarcely   neglect   an   opportunity   of asking   the   servants,   “Tell   me,   who   does   all   this;   who   is my   noble   benefactor,   for   I   must   know   him?”   “Well,   but,” they   would   say,   “is   it   not   enough   for   you   that   you   are delivered   from   the   lion?”   “No,”   you   say,   “it   is   for   that very   reason   that   I   long   to   know   him.”   “Your   needs   are richly   supplied—why   are   you   vexed   by   curiosity   as   to the   hand   which   gave   you   the   gift?   If   your   garment   is worn     out,     there     is     another;     long     before     hunger oppresses   you,   the   table   is   well   loaded.   What   more   do you   need?”   But   your   reply   is,   “It   is   because   I   have   no needs,   that,   therefore,   my   soul   longs   and   yearns,   even to   hungering   and   to   thirsting,   that   I   may   know   my generous loving friend.” Suppose   that   as   you   wake   up   one   morning,   you   find lying   on   your   pillow   a   precious   love-token   from   your unknown    friend,    a    ring    sparkling    with    jewels,    and engraved    with    a    tender    inscription,    a    bouquet    of flowers   bound   about   with   a   love-motto?   Your   curiosity now   knows   no   bounds!   But,   you   are   informed   that   this wondrous   being   has   not   only   done   for   you   what   you have   seen,   but   a   thousand   deeds   of   love   which   you   did not   see,   which   were   still   higher   and   greater   proofs   of his   affection.   You   are   told   that   he   was   wounded,   and imprisoned,   and   scourged   for   your   sake,   for   he   had   a love    to    you    so    great    that    death    itself    could    not overcome     it—you     are     informed     that     he     is     every moment    occupied    in    your    interests,    because    he    has sworn   by   himself   that   where   he   is,   there   you   shall   be; his   honors   you   shall   share,   and   of   his   happiness   you shall   be   the   crown.   Why,   I   think   you   would   say,   “Tell me,   men   and   women,   any   of   you   who   know   him,   tell me   who   he   is,   and   what   he   is.”   And   if   they   said,   “But isn’t   it   enough   for   you   to   know   that   he   loves   you,   and to   have   daily   proofs   of   his   goodness,”   you   would   say, “No,   these   love-tokens   increase   my   thirst!   If   you   see him,   tell   him   I   am   sick   with   love.   The   flagons   which   he sends   me,   and   the   love-tokens   which   he   gives   me,   they stay   me   for   a   while,   with   the   assurance   of   his   affection, but    they    only    impel    me    onward    with    the    more unconquerable    desire    that    I    may    know    him.    I    must know    him!    I    cannot    live    without    knowing    him;    his goodness    makes    me    thirst    and    pant,    and    faint,    and even die, that I may know him.” Have    I    imagined    emotions    which    would    not    be natural?    I    think    not.    The    most    cool    and    calculating would   be   warmed   with   desires   like   these.   I   think   what I   have   now   pictured   before   you,   will   wake   the   echoes in   your   breasts,   and   you   will   say,   “Ah,   it   is   even   so!   It   is because   Christ   loved   me,   and   gave   Himself   for   me   that I   want   to   know   Him;   it   is   because   He   has   shed   His blood   for   me,   and   has   chosen   me   that   I   may   be   one with    Him    forever,    that    my    soul    desires    a    fuller acquaintance with Him. Now   may   God,   the   Holy   Spirit,   very   graciously   lead me   onward   that   I   may   also   quicken   in   you   the   desire   to know HIM. I.   Beloved,   let   us   pass   by   that   crowd   of   outer-court worshippers     who     are     content     to     live     without knowing    Christ .    I    do    not    mean    the    ungodly    and profane;   we   will   not   consider   them   just   now—they   are altogether    strangers    and    foreigners    to    Him—I    mean children   of   God—the   visible   saints.   How   many   there are   of   these   whom   I   must   call   outer-court   worshippers, for   they   are   strangers   to   this   panting   to   know   Him. They   can   say   with   Paul,   “That   I   may   win   Him   and   be found    in    Him”—that    they    do    want;    but    this    higher wish,   “That   I   may   know   Him,”   has   not   stirred   their hearts!   How   many   brethren   we   know   who   are   content to   know   Christ’s   historic   life!   They   read   the   Evangelists, and   they   are   charmed   with   the   perfect   beauty   of   the Savior’s    history.    “Never    man    spoke    like    this    Man,” they   say,   and   they   confess   that   never   man   acted   with such   love   as   He   did.   They   know   all   the   incidents   of   His life,   from   His   manger   to   His   cross,   but   they   do   not know   HIM .   They   are   as   men   who   have   read   “Caesar’s Commentaries,”    but    who    have    never    seen    Caesar. They   know   the   battles   which   Caesar   fought;   they   can even   recognize   the   mantle   which   Caesar   wore   “that day   he   overcame   the   Nervii,”   but   they   do   not   know Caesar    himself.    The    person    of    the    Lord    Jesus    is    as much    hidden    from    their    eyes,    as    the    golden    pot    of manna   when   concealed   in   the   Ark.   They   know   the   life of   Christ,   but   not   Christ   the   Life;   they   admire   His   way among men, but they see Him not as the way. Others    there    are    who    know    Christ’s    doctrine    and prize   it,   too,   but   they   know   not   HIM.   All   which   He taught   is   dear   to   them;   orthodoxy—for   this   they   would burn   at   Smithfield,   or   lay   down   their   necks   at   Tower Hill!   Many   of   them   are   well-instructed   and   divinely- illuminated   in   the   doctrine   of   Christ,   and   the   wonder   is that   they   should   stop   there,   because,   beloved,   it   seems to   me   when   I   begin   to   know   a   man’s   teaching,   that   the next thing is the desire to know his person. Addison, in one   of   the   “Spectators,”   tells   us   that   the   reason   why   so many    books    are    printed    with    the    portraits    of    the authors   is   just   this—that   as   a   man   reads   a   book,   he feels    a    desire    to    know    what    sort    of    appearance    the author   had.   This,   indeed,   is   very   natural.   If   you   have ever     been     refreshed     under     a     minister’s     printed sermons;   if   you   have   at   any   time   received   any   benefit from   his   words,   I   know   you   have   said,   “I   would   like   to see   that   man;   I   would   like   to   hear   the   truth   of   God   flow hot   and   fresh   from   his   living   lips;   I   would   like   to   know just   how   he   said   that   sentence,   and   how   that   passage sounded    as    it    came    from    his    earnest    heart.”    My beloved,   surely   if   you   know   the   doctrine   of   Jesus,   if you   have   so   been   with   Christ   as   to   sit   at   His   feet,   and hear   what   He   has   to   say,   you   must,   I   hope,   have   had some   longings   to   know   Him—to   know   His   person;   and if   you   have,   you   will   have   had   to   pass   by   multitudes   of followers   of   Jesus   who   rest   satisfied   with   His   words, but forget that He is, Himself, “THE WORD.” Beloved,   there   are   others—and   against   them   I   bring no    complaint;    they    go    as    far    as    they    can—who    are delighted   with   Christ’s   example .   Christ’s   character   is   in their   esteem   the   mirror   of   all   perfection.   They   desire   to walk   in   His   footsteps;   they   listen   to   His   sermon   upon the   mount;   they   are   enchanted   with   it—as   well   they may   be;   they   pray   to   be   obedient   in   all   things   to   Christ, as   their   Master   and   their   Lord.   They   do   well.   Mark,   I am   finding   no   fault   with   any   of   these   who   prize   the history,   or   who   value   the   doctrine,   or   who   admire   the precept;   but   I   want   more.   I   do   want,   beloved,   that   you and   I   should   “know   HIM.”   I   love   His   precepts,   but   I love   HIM   better!   Sweet   is   the   water   from   Bethlehem’s well,   and   well   worth   the   struggle   of   the   armed   men   to win   but   a   bucket   from   it;   but   the   well   itself   is   better, and    deserves    all    Israel’s    valor    to    defend    it.    As    the source   is   always   more   valuable   than   the   stream,   so   is Christ   always   better   than   the   best   words   of   His   lips,   or the   best   deeds   of   His   hands.   I   want   to   know   Him .   I   do care    for    His    actions—my    soul    would    sit    down    and admire   those   masterly   works   of   holy   art—His   miracles of   humiliation,   of   suffering,   of   patience,   and   of   holy charity—but   better   far,   I   love   the   hands   which   worked these   master-works,   the   lips   which   spoke   these   goodly words,     and     the     heart     which     heaved     with     that matchless    love    which    was    the    cause    of    all!    Yes, beloved,     we     must     get     farther     than     Immanuel’s achievements,    however    glorious—we    must    come    to “KNOW HIM.” Most    believers    rest    perfectly    at    ease    with    knowing Christ’s    Sacrifice .    They    see    Jesus    as    the    great    High Priest,   laying   a   great   sacrifice   upon   the   altar   for   their sins,    and    with    their    whole    heart    they    accept    His atonement.   By   faith   they   know   that   all   their   sins   are taken   away   by   precious   blood.   This   is   a   most   blessed and   hallowed   attainment,   I   will   grant   you,   but   it   is   not every   Christian   who   perceives   that   Christ   was   not   only the   offerer   of   a   sacrifice,   but   was   Himself   the   sacrifice, and,     therefore,     loves     Him     as     such.     Priest,     altar, victim—Christ   was   everything!   He   gathers   up   all   in Himself,   and   when   I   see   that   He   loved   me,   and   gave Himself   for   me,   it   is   not   enough   to   know   this   fact—I want   to   know   Him,   the   glorious   person   who   does   and is   all   this.   I   want   to   know   the   Man   who   thus   gave Himself   for   me;   I   want   to   behold   the   Lamb   once   slain for   me;   I   want   to   rest   upon   the   bosom   which   covers   the heart,   which   was   pierced   with   the   spear;   I   pray   Him   to kiss    me    with    the    kisses    of    that    mouth    which    cried, “ Eloi,   Eloi,   Lama   Sabachthani ?”   I   love   Calvary,   the   scene of   woe,   but   I   love   Christ   better,   the   great   object   of   that agony;   and   even   His   cross   and   all   His   sufferings,   dear though   these   must   always   be   to   the   Christian   mind, only    occupy    a    second    place—the    first    seat    is    for Himself—His person, His deity, and humanity! Thus,    you    see,    we    have    to    leave    a    great    many believers   behind;   nor   have   we   enumerated   all,   for   I believe    that    even    some    of    those    saints    who    have received   grace   to   look   for   the   coming   of   Christ,   yet   in their   vision   of   His   coming   too   much   forget   Him!   Is   it not   possible,   for   men   to   pant   for   the   second   advent   as to   lose   sight   of   Him   who   is   to   make   that   advent?   So   to long   for   a   millennium,   that   I   may   forget   Him,   who   is   to reign    King    of    kings?    So    to    pant    after    that    glory    of Israel,    that    I    may    forget    Him    who    is    Israel’s    glory? Anywhere   short   of   knowing   Him,   I   would   not   have   you stop,   beloved;   and   even   when   you   know   Him,   I   would urge   you   to   still   be   impelled   with   the   same   desire,   and to   press   forward,   crying   with   the   apostle,   “That   I   may know Him.” Beloved,    how    many    there    are    who    have    heard    of Christ   and   read   about   Christ,   and   that   is   enough   for them!   But   it   is   not   enough   for   me,   and   it   should   not   be enough   for   you.   The   apostle   Paul   did   not   say,   “I   have heard   of   Him,   on   whom   I   have   believed,”   but,   “I   know whom    I    have    believed.”    To    hear    about    Christ    may damn   you—it   may   be   a   savor   of   death   unto   death   to you.   You   have   heard   of   Him   with   the   ear—but   it   is essential   that   you   know   Him   in   order   that   you   may   be partakers    of    eternal    life!    My    dear    hearers,    be    not content    unless    you    have    this    as    your    soul’s    present portion. Others   there   are   who   have   been   persuaded   by   the judgment    and    encouragement    of    others,    that    they know   something   about   the   Great   Redeemer.   They   do not   know   Him,   but   still   they   are   persuaded   by   others that   they   have   an   interest   in   Him.   Let   me   warn   you   of second-hand   spirituality!   It   is   a   rotten,   soul-deceiving deception!     Beware     of     all     esteeming     of     yourself according    to    the    thoughts    of    others,    or    you    will    be ruined.   Another   man’s   opinion   of   me   may   have   great influence   over   me—I   have   heard   of   a   man   in   perfectly good   health   killed   by   the   opinion   of   others.   Several   of his   friends   had   foolishly   agreed   to   play   a   practical   trick on   him,   whereupon   one   of   them   met   him   and   said, “How   ill   you   look   this   morning.”   He   did   not   feel   so;   he was   very   much   surprised   at   the   remark.   When   he   met the   next,   who   said   to   him,   “Oh,   dear,   how   bad   you look,”   he   began   to   think   there   might   be   something   in it.   And   as   he   turned   round   the   corner,   a   third   person said   to   him,   “What   a   sight   you   are!   How   altered   from what   you   used   to   be!”   He   went   home   ill;   he   took   to   his bed    and    died.    So    goes    the    story    and    I    should    not marvel   if   it   really   did   occur.   Now,   if   such   might   be   the effect   of   persuasion   and   supposed   belief   in   the   sickness of    a    man,    how    much    more    readily    may    men    be persuaded   into   the   idea   of   spiritual   health!   A   believer meets    you,    and    by    his    treatment    seems    to    say,    “I welcome   you   as   a   dear   brother”—and   he   means   it,   too. You   are   baptized,   and   received   into   church   fellowship, and so everybody thinks that you must be a follower of Christ;   and   yet   you   may   not   know   Him .   Oh,   I   pray   you do     not     be     satisfied     with     being     persuaded     into something   like   an   assurance   that   you   are   in   Him,   but do not know Him — know Him for yourself. There   are   many   who   I   hope   will   be   saved   before   long; but   I   am   in   great   doubt   of   them,   because   they   can   only say   they   half   think   they   know   Christ;   they   do   not   quite believe   in   Him,   but   they   do   not   disbelieve   in   Him;   they halt   between   two   opinions.   Ah,   dear   hearer,   that   is   a very   dangerous   place   to   stand!   The   borderland   is   the devil’s   hunting   ground.   Undecided   souls   are   fair   game for   the   great   fowler.   God   give   you,   once   and   for   all,   the true   decision   by   which,   through   grace,   you   shall   know Him!   Do   not   be   satisfied   with   thinking   you   know   Him; hoping   you   know   Him,   but   know   Him!   Oh,   it   is   nothing to   have   heard   about   Him,   to   have   talked   about   Him,   to have    eaten,    and    to    have    drank    with    Him,    to    have preached   Him,   or   even   to   have   worked   miracles   in   His name,   to   have   been   charmed   by   His   eloquence,   to   have been   stirred   with   the   story   of   His   love,   to   have   been moved    to    imitate    Him—this    shall    gain    you    nothing unless   you   win   Him,   and   are   found   in   Him!   Seek   with the    apostle,    to    give    up    everything    of    your    own righteousness,   and   all   other   objectives   and   aims   in   life and   say,   “This   I   seek   after,   that   I   may   know   Him.” Thus    much,    then,    on    the    first    point.    Leaving    those behind    who    do    not    know    Him,    let    us    make    an advance. II.   Secondly,   let   us   draw   curtain   after   curtain   which shall admit us to know more of Christ . Did    you    ever    visit    the    manufactory    of    splendid porcelain   at   Sevres?   I   have   done   so.   If   anybody   should say   to   me,   “Do   you   know   the   manufactory   at   Sevres?” I   would   say,   “Yes,   I   do   and   no,   I   do   not.   I   know   it,   for   I have   seen   the   building;   I   have   seen   the   rooms   in   which the   articles   are   exhibited   for   sale,   and   I   have   seen   the museum,    and    model    room;    but    I    do    not    know    the factory   as   I   would   like   to   know   it,   for   I   have   not   seen the     process     of     manufacture,     and     have     not     been admitted   into   the   workshops,   as   some   are.”   Suppose   I had   seen,   however,   the   process   of   the   molding   of   the clay,   and   the   laying   on   of   the   rich   designs?   If   anybody should    still    say    to    me,    “Do    you    know    how    they manufacture   those   wonderful   articles?”   I   would   very likely   still   be   compelled   to   say,   “No,   I   do   not,   because there    are    certain    secrets,    certain    private    rooms    into which   neither   friend   nor   foe   can   be   admitted,   lest   the process   should   be   open   to   the   world.”   So,   you   see,   I might   say   I   knew,   and   yet   might   not   half   know!   And when   I   half   knew,   still   there   would   be   so   much   left, that   I   might   be   compelled   to   say,   “I   do   not   know.” How    many    different    ways    there    are    of    knowing    a person—and   even   so   there   are   all   these   different   ways of   knowing   Christ,   so   that   you   may   keep   on   all   your lifetime,   still   wishing   to   get   into   another   room,   and another   room,   nearer   and   nearer   to   the   great   secret, still   panting   to   “know   Him.”   Good   Rutherford   says,   “I urge   upon   you   a   nearer   communion   with   Christ,   and   a growing   communion.   There   are   curtains   to   be   drawn by,   in   Christ,   that   we   never   shut,   and   new   foldings   in love   with   Him.   I   despair   that   I   shall   ever   win   to   the   far end    of    that    love;    there    are    so    many    plies    in    it. Therefore,   dig   deep,   and   set   by   as   much   time   in   the day for Him as you can—He will be won by labor.” To   begin   with,   we   know   a   person   when   we   recognize him .   You   know   the   Queen.   Well,   I   do.   I   recollect   seeing her,   and   if   I   were   to   see   any   quantity   of   ladies,   I   think   I would   know   which   was   the   Queen,   and   which   was not.   You   may   say   honestly   that   you   know   her   to   that extent.    Beloved,    every    Christian    must    in    this    sense know    Christ!    You    must    know    Him    by    a    divine illumination   so   as   to   know   who   He   is,   and   what   He   is. When   Jesus   said   to   Simon   Peter,   “Whom   do   you   say that   I   am,”   he   said,   “You   are   the   Christ,   the   Son   of   the living   God.”   And   the   Lord   replied,   “Blessed   are   you, Simon   Barjona,   for   flesh   and   blood   has   not   revealed this   unto   you.”   It   is   an   early   step   in   this   knowledge   of Christ,   to   know   and   to   believe   that   Jesus   Christ   is   Lord; to   know   that   Christ   is   God,   divine   to   me;   that   Christ   is Man,   brother   to   me—bone   of   my   bone,   and   flesh   of   my flesh—and   that   as   such   He   is   a   sin-subduing   Savior; that   He   is   for   me   an   intercessor,   pleading   before   the throne;   that   He   is   my   prophet,   priest   and   King—in   this sense   I   trust   that   most   of   you   know   Him.   If   you   do   not, breathe   the   silent   prayer   now,   “Lord,   help   me   that   I may   know   Him.”   But   this   knowledge   of   recognition   is comparatively    a    low    attainment,    one    of    the    lowest rungs on the ladder of light. In    the    second    place,    a    believer    knows    Christ    to    a higher    degree,    when    he    knows    Him    by    practical experiential   acquaintance   with   what   He   does .   For   instance, I    know    Christ    as    a    cleanser.    They    tell    me    He    is    a refiner,   that   He   cleanses   from   spots;   He   has   washed   me in   His   precious   blood,   and   to   that   extent   I   know   Him. They    tell    me    that    He    clothes    the    naked—He    has covered   me   with   a   garment   of   righteousness,   and   to that    extent    I    know    Him.    They    tell    me    that    He    is    a breaker,   and   that   He   breaks   chains—He   has   set   my soul   at   liberty,   and,   therefore,   I   know   Him.   They   tell me   that   He   is   a   King,   and   that   He   reigns   over   sin—He has   subdued   my   enemies   beneath   His   feet,   and   I   know Him   in   that   character.   They   tell   me   He   is   a   shepherd—I know    Him,    for    I    am    His    sheep.    They    say    He    is    a door—I    have    entered    in    through    Him,    and    I    know Him   as   a   door.   They   say   He   is   food—my   spirit   feeds on   Him   as   on   the   bread   of   heaven   and,   therefore,   I know   Him   as   such.   You   know   if   anyone   says,   “Do   you know    Doctor    So-and-So?”    it    is    a    very    satisfactory answer   if   you   can   reply,   “Oh,   yes,   I   know   him,   for   he attended   me   the   last   time   that   I   was   ill.”   There   is   more knowledge   in   that,   than   if   one   could   only   say,   “Oh,   yes, I   know   him—he   wears   such-and-such   a   hat,”   or   “He   is a   man   of   such-and-such   an   appearance.”   So,   Christian, there      is      a      second      and      higher      step      to      know Christ—when   you   have   experienced   in   your   own   soul that He is just what God has revealed Him to be! But,   we   know   a   man   in   a   better   sense   than   this,   when we   are   on   speaking   terms   with   him.   “Do   you   know   So- and-So?”    “Yes,”    you    say,    “I    not    only    know    him    by name,   so   as   to   recognize   him;   I   not   only   know   him   as   a tradesman    having    dealt    with    him,    but    I    know    him because   when   we   pass   each   other   in   the   morning,   we exchange   a   word   or   two;   and   if   I   had   anything   to   say upon   matters—any   request   to   make—   I   would   feel   no difficulty   about   asking   him.”   Well   now,   the   Christian knows   his   Lord   in   this   sense,   too.   He   has,   every   day, official   communication   with   Christ;   he   is   on   speaking terms   with   Him.   There   may   be   persons   here,   perhaps, who   know   the   Queen   in   a   sense   in   which   I   do   not know   her—perhaps   they   speak   to   her.   They   have   so done;   I   have   never   done   that;   they   go   beyond   me   there. But   you   see,   dear   friends,   this   is   not   a   very   great   thing because     you     may     be     on     speaking     terms     with     a man—you   may   not   know   much   of   him   for   all   that!   So you   may   be   in   the   habit   of   daily   prayer,   and   you   may talk       with       Christ       every       morning       and       every evening—but   you   may   know   exceedingly   little   of   Him. You    are    on    speaking    terms    with    Him;    but    there    is something   beyond   this,   very   far   beyond   this!   I   might say    that    I    know    a    man    merely    because    I    meet    him every     day,     and     ask     him     for     what     I     need,     and understand    that    he    is    kind    and    generous.    But    how shallow   is   such   an   acquaintance,   for   I   do   not   know   his private    character,    nor    his    inward    heart.    Even    so    a believer   may   have   constant   dealings   with   Christ   in   his prayers   and   in   his   praises   and   yet,   for   all   that,   he   may have   only   gone   a   certain   distance,   and   may   still   have need to pray, “That I may know Him.” But,   you   are   said   to   know   a   person   better   still,   when he   invites   you   to   his   house .   At   Christmas   time   there   is   a family   party   and   a   romp—and   he   asks   you   there,   and you   are   like   one   of   his   children,   and   enter   into   all   their sports   around   the   fireside.   And   you   indulge,   as   they do,   in   the   genialities   of   social   life.   You   are   asked   again; you   go   there   pretty   often.   In   fact,   if   there   is   a   happy evening    in    that    house,    they    generally    expect    to    see friend   So-and-So   there.   Well,   now,   that   is   better.   We   are getting   now   into   something   like   knowing   a   man,   and   I trust   there   are   many   of   you,   beloved,   who   have   got   as far   as   this   with   regard   to   your   divine   Lord!   Christ   has entertained     you     with     some     rare     visits     from     His gracious      presence.      He      brought      you      into      His banqueting   house,   and   His   banner   over   you   was   love. When   He   manifested   Himself,   He   did   it   unto   you   as He    did    not    unto    the    world;    He    was    pleased    in    the majesty   of   His   condescension,   to   take   you   aside   and show    you    His    hands,    and    His    side.    He    called    you, “Friend.”   He   treated   you   as   such,   and   permitted   you   to enjoy your sweets of being one of the family. Ah,   but   you   may   go   into   a   man’s   house   as   a   constant visitor   and   yet   you   may   not   know   him—that   is   to   say, not   in   the   highest   sense.   You   speak   to   the   man’s   wife and    say,    “Your    husband    is    a    marvelously    charming man;   what   a   cheerful,   joyful,   spirited   man   he   is!   He never    seems    to    have    any    depressions    of    spirit,    and experiences    no    changes    whatever.”    She    shakes    her head,   and   she   says,   “Ah,   you   do   not   know   him,   you   do not   know   him   as   I   do.”   Because   she   sees   him   at   all times,   and   at   all   hours,   she   can   read   the   very   heart   of the   man.   That   Christian   has   grown   much   in   grace,   who has    advanced    not    only    to    be    the    friend    of    Christ, having    occasional    fellowship    with    Him,    but    who comes   to   recognize   his   marriage   union   with   the   person of   his   Lord,   and   of   whom   it   can   be   said,   “The   secret   of the   Lord   is   with   them   who   fear   Him;   and   He   will   show them    His    covenant.”    Now    we    have    the    intimacy    of love    with    its    perfect    frankness,    nearness,    sweetness, joyousness,     delight!     The     rending     away     of     every separating   veil   makes   the   communion   to   be   as   near   as it    well    can    be    this    side    of    the    black    river;    but    a Christian may get farther than this! Even    the    spouse    may    not    know    her    husband.    The most   loving   wife,   who   ever   entered   into   the   cares   of her    husband,    must    have    discovered    that    there    is    a something    which    separates    his    experience    from    her powers    of    comprehension.    Luther’s    wife,    Katharina, was,   of   all   women,   the   wife   for   Luther.   But,   there   were times   in   Luther’s   gigantic   tribulations,   when   he   must leave    Kate    behind;    there    were    extraordinary    times within   him—times   both   of   ecstatic   joy—when,   like   a great   angel,   he   stretched   his   mighty   wings   and   flew right   up   to   heaven!   And,   there   were   times   of   awful misery,    when    he    seemed    to    sink    down    to    the    very depths   of   hell;   and   in   either   case,   no   other   heart   could keep   pace   with   him.   Then   it   was   himself   alone   who had   communion   with   himself.   And   a   Christian   may   so grow   in   grace,   as   to   become   identified   with   Christ,   a member   of   His   body—not   so   much   married   to   Him   as a   part   of   Him,   a   member   of   the   great   body   of   Christ,   so that   he   suffers   with   Christ,   sympathizes   with   Jesus,   his heart    beating    to    the    same    sorrowful    tune,    his    veins swollen   with   the   same   floods   of   grief—or   else   his   eyes sparkle   with   that   same   gleam   of   joy,   according   to   the Master’s   Word—“That   My   joy   might   remain   in   you, and that your joy might be full.” Well,   have   you   not   waded   out   of   your   depth,   some   of you?   I   have   certainly   got   out   of   my   own!   I   feel   as   if   the Master   might   come   on   this   platform,   look   round   on many   of   us,   and   say,   “Have   I   been   so   long   a   time   with you,   and   yet   have   you   not   known   Me,   Philip?”   For truly,   even   in   the   minor   sense,   though   I   trust   we   are saved;   though   we   have   believed   in   Jesus,   yet   we   have not   reached   the   height   of   this   great   text—“That   I   may know Him.” III.   Having   taken   you   so   far,   let   us   sit   down   a   few minutes   and   consider   what   sort   of   knowledge   this knowledge of Christ is —“That I may know Him.” Then   it   is   clear,   if   I   know   Him   I   shall   have   a   very vivid   sense   of   His   personality .   “That   I   may   know   Him.” He   will   not   be   to   me   a   myth,   a   vision,   a   spirit,   but   a person,    a    real,    solid    person,    as    much    real    as    I    am myself,   or   as   my   dearest   friend   can   be   to   me.   My   soul, never   be   satisfied   with   a   shadowy   Christ!   My   heart, never   be   content   until   He   has   embraced   your   soul,   and proved   to   you   that   He   is   the   Lover   of   His   people.   This knowledge,   then,   must   be   a   knowledge   of   Him   in   His personality.    Then,    beloved,    it    must    be    a    personal knowledge   on   our   part.   I   cannot   know   Christ   through another    person’s    brains.    I    cannot    love    Him    with another    man’s    heart,    and    I    cannot    see    Him    with another   man’s   eyes.   Heaven’s   delight   is,   “My   eyes   shall see   Him   and   not   another.”   These   eyes   shall   behold   the King   in   His   beauty.   Well,   beloved,   if   this   is   heaven,   we certainly   cannot   do   without   a   personal   sight   of   Christ here.   I   am   so   afraid   of   living   in   a   second-hand   religion. God   forbid   that   I   should   get   a   biographical   experience. Lord,   save   us   from   having   borrowed   communion.   No, I    must    know    Him    myself!    O    God,    let    me    not    be deceived   in   this!   I   must   know   Him   without   fancy   or proxy; I must know Him on my own account. Then     these     few     thoughts     upon     what     sort     of knowledge    we    must    have.    It    must    be    an    intelligent knowledge—I    must    know    Him .    I    must    know    His natures,   divine   and   human.   I   must   know   His   offices—I must   know   His   attributes—I   must   know   His   works—I must   know   His   shame—I   must   know   His   glory;   for   I do   not   know   Him   if   He   is   merely   a   subject   of   passion and   not   of   intellect.   I   must   let   my   head   consciously meditate   upon   Him   until   I   have   something   like   an   idea of   Him,   that   I   may,   “Comprehend   with   all   saints   what is   the   breadth,   and   length,   and   depth,   and   height;   and to know the love of Christ, which passes knowledge.” Then   I   must   have   an   affectionate   knowledge   of   Him; and,   indeed,   if   I   know   Him   at   all,   I   must   love   Him.   As it   is   said   of   some   men,   that   there   is   such   a   charm   about them,    that    if    you    once    get    into    their    company    you cannot   criticize   any   longer,   but   must   admire—so   you feel   with   Christ.   It   is   said   of   Garibaldi,   that   if   you   are   in his    society    he    charms    all,    so    that    even    malice    and slander    must    be    silent    in    his    presence.    Infinitely, supremely,   so   is   it   with   Christ!   Being   near   Him,   His love   warms   our   hearts   till   we   glow   with   intense   love   to Him! Then    I    shall    find,    if    I    know    Christ,    that    this    is    a satisfying   knowledge.   When   I   know   Christ,   my   mind will   be   full   to   the   brim—I   shall   feel   that   I   have   found that   which   my   spirit   panted   after.   “This   is   that   bread whereof if a man eats he shall never hunger.” At    the    same    time    it    is    an    exciting    knowledge.    The more   I   know   of   Christ,   the   more   I   shall   want   to   know. The   deeper   I   plunge,   the   greater   the   deeps   which   will be   revealed.   The   higher   I   climb,   the   loftier   will   be   the summits   which   invite   my   eager   footsteps.   I   shall   want more   as   I   get   more.   My   spiritual   thirst   will   increase, though in another sense it will be entirely quenched. And   this   knowledge   of   Christ   will   be   a   most   happy one!   In   fact,   so   happy   that   sometimes   it   will   completely bear   me   up   above   all   trials,   doubts,   and   sorrows;   And it   will,   while   I   enjoy   it,   make   me   something   more   than, “Man   who   is   born   of   a   woman   who   is   of   few   days,   and full     of     trouble,”     for     it     will     fling     about     me     the immortality   of   the   ever-living   Savior,   and   gird   me   with the   golden   belt   of   His   eternal   happiness.   To   be   near   to Christ   is   to   be   near   to   the   pearly   gates   of   the   golden- streeted   city.   Say   not,   “Jerusalem,   my   happy   home,   my labors   have   an   end   in   you,”   but   say,   “Jesus,   You   are   my rest,   and   when   I   have   You,   my   spirit   is   at   peace.”   I might     thus     keep     on     speaking     in     praise     of     this knowledge, but I will not. Only    permit    me    to    say    what    a    refreshing,    what    a sanctifying   knowledge   is   this,   to   know   Him!   When   the Laodicean    Church    was    neither    hot    nor    cold,    but lukewarm,   how   did   Christ   seek   her   revival?   Did   He send   her   precious   doctrines?   Did   He   send   her   excellent precepts?   Mark   you,   He   came   Himself,   for   thus   it   is said,   “Behold,   I   stand   at   the   door   and   knock:   if   any man   hears   My   voice,   and   opens   the   door,   I   will   come into   him,   and   will   sup   with   him,   and   he   with   Me.” That    is    a    cure    for    it    all,    you    see.    No    matter    how lukewarm,   though   God   may   say,   “I   will   spew   you   out of   My   mouth,”   yet,   if   Christ   comes,   that   is   the   cure! The   presence   of   Christ   with   His   Church   puts   away   all her   sicknesses.   When   the   disciples   of   Christ   were   at   sea in   a   storm,   do   you   remember   how   He   comforted   them? Did   He   send   them   an   angel?   No.   “It   is   I,   do   not   be afraid.”   And   when   they   knew   Him,   they   had   no   more fears.    They    were    assembled    one    night,    “the    doors being   shut   for   fear   of   the   Jews.”   How   did   He   comfort them?   Jesus   Himself   stood   in   the   midst   of   them   and said,   “Peace   be   unto   you.”   There   was   Thomas,   full   of doubts   and   fears.   How   did   Jesus   Christ   take   away   his doubts?    “Reach    here    your    finger,    and    behold    My hands;   and   reach   here   your   hand   and   thrust   it   into   My side.”   Oh,   it   is   Christ,   it   is   Christ   who   cures   all!   The company   of   Christ   is   the   only   thing   which   a   Christian needs.    I    will    undertake    that    if    his    heart    is    like    an iceberg,    as    soon    as    Jesus    comes,    it    shall    flame    like Vesuvius.   His   spirit   shall   be   dead   and   like   a   rotten corpse;   but   if   Jesus   comes,   he   shall   leap   like   a   hart,   and become    strong    as    a    young    unicorn!    Your    presence makes me like the chariots of Amminadib! Now,   do   not   think   I   am   talking   what   I   do   not   know. Do   not   imagine   that   I   am   talking   mere   fanatical   slip- slop   which   I   cannot   prove.   I   do   assert   (and   God   who searches   all   hearts   knows   how   true   this   is)—I   do   assert that     from     the     depths     of     doubt,     of     dullness,     of worldliness,   I   have   leaped   in   one   moment   into   love, and   life,   and   holy   enthusiasm   when   Jesus   Christ   has manifested    Himself    to    me.    I    cannot    describe    the difference    between    my    spirit,    water-logged,    worm- eaten,   ready   to   sink   to   the   bottom   without   Christ—and that   same   spirit   like   a   strong   staunch   ship,   with   sails full,   with   favorable   wind,   speeding   into   harbor   with   a golden   freight.   Like   yon   poor   little   bird   which   some cruel   boy   has   torn   from   the   nest   and   almost   killed—it is   not   fledged   yet,   and   cannot   fly,   and   it   lies   down   to die,   trampled   in   the   mire   in   the   streets—that   is   my heart   without   Christ.   But   see   that   other   bird!   The   cage door   is   opened,   its   wings   vibrate,   it   sings   with   all   its might,   and   flies   up   to   talk   with   the   sun—that   is   my heart   when   I   have   the   conscious   presence   of   my   Lord Jesus   Christ!   I   only   bring   in   my   own   consciousness because   I   do   not   know   yours;   but   I   think   I   will   now venture   to   say   that   every   believer   here   will   admit   it   is the same with him— “Midst darkest shades, if He appears My dawning is begun! He is my soul’s bright morning star, And He my rising sun!” IV.   I   shall   close   by   urging   you,   dearly   beloved,   who know   the   Lord,   to   take   this   desire   of   the   apostle,   and by    exhorting    you,    make    it    your    own,    “That    I    may know   Him.”   I   wish   I   had   time   this   morning—time   will fly—I   wish   I   had   time   to   urge   and   press   you   believers onward   to   seek   to   know   Him.   Paul,   you   see,   gave   up everything   for   this—you   will   be   seeking   what   is   worth having.   There   can   be   no   mistake   about   this.   If   Paul   will renounce   all,   there   must   be   a   reward   which   is   worthy of    the    sacrifice.    If    you    have    any    fears—if    you    seek Christ    and    find    Him—they    will    be    removed.    You complain   that   you   do   not   feel   the   guilt   of   sin,   that   you cannot   humble   yourself   enough.   The   sight   of   Christ   is the   very   best   means   of   setting   sin   in   its   true   colors. There   is   no   repenting   like   that   which   comes   from   a look   from   Christ’s   eyes—   the   Lord   turned   and   looked upon   Peter,   and   he   went   out   and   wept   bitterly.   So   it   is not   a   sight   of   the   law—it   is   the   sight   of   Christ   looking upon us which will break our hearts! There   is   nothing   like   this   to   fill   you   with   courage. When   Dr.   Andrew   Reed   found   some   difficulties   in   the founding   of   one   of   his   orphan   asylums,   he   sat   down and   drew   upon   a   little   piece   of   paper   the   cross,   and then   he   said   to   himself,   “What?   Despair   in   the   face   of the   cross?”   And   then,   he   drew   a   ring   round   the   cross, and   wrote   in   it,   “ Nil   desperandum!”   and   took   it   for   his coat   of   arms.   Oh,   there   cannot   be   any   despair   in   the presence   of   the   cross!   Dying   Lamb,   did   You   endure   the cross,     despising     the     shame—and     shall     I     talk     of difficulties   when   Your   glory   is   in   the   way?   God   forbid! O    holy    face    bedewed    with    bloody    sweat,    I    pledge myself    in    Your    solemn    and    awful    presence,    that though    this    face    of    mine    should    be    bedewed    with sweat   of   the   like   sort   to   accomplish   any   labor   upon which    You    shall    put    me;    by    Your    will    and    in    Your strength,   I   will   not   shrink   from   the   task!   A   sight   of Christ,   brethren,   will   keep   you   from   despondency,   and doubts,   and   despair.   A   sight   of   Christ!   How   shall   I   stir you   to   it?   It   will   fire   you   to   duty;   it   will   deliver   you from   temptation;   it   will,   in   fact,   make   you   like   He.   A man    is    known    by    his    company;    and    if    you    have become   acquainted   with   Christ,   and   know   Him,   you will   be   sure   to   reflect   His   light!   It   is   because   the   moon has   converse   with   the   sun,   that   she   has   any   light   for this   dark   world’s   night;   and   if   you   talk   with   Christ,   the Sun,   He   will   shine   on   you   so   gloriously,   that   you,   like the   moon,   shall   reflect   His   light,   and   the   dark   night   of this   world   shall   be   enlightened   by   your   radiance.   The Lord help us to know Him! But   I   do   seem,   this   morning,   to   have   been   talking   to you   about   Him,   and   not   to   have   brought   Him   forward. O   that   I   knew   how   to   introduce   you   to   Him!   You   who do   not   love   Him—O,   that   I   could   make   you   seek   after Him!   But   you   who   do   love   Him,   and   have   trusted   in Him—O   that   I   could   make   you   hunger   and   thirst   until you   were   filled   with   Him!   There   He   is,   nailed   to   His cross—suffering—oh    how    much    He    suffers    for    you! There    He    is,    risen,    ascended,    pleading    before    the throne   of   God   for   you.   Here   He   is—“Lo,   I   am   with   you always,   even   unto   the   end   of   the   world.”   Here   He   is, waiting   to   be   comforted   with   your   company,   desiring communion    with    you,    panting    that    His    sister,    His spouse,   would   be   no   longer   a   stranger   to   Him!   Here He   is,   waiting   to   be   gracious,   saying,   “Come   unto   Me, all   you   who   labor   and   are   heavy   laden,   and   I   will   give you    rest.”    Come,    Christian,    come!    Let    this    be    your desire, “That I may know Him.” And   you   who   do   not   know   Him,   and   have   not   loved Him,    I    pray    you    will    breathe    this    prayer    with    me, “Lord,   be   merciful   to   me   a   sinner.”   O   sinner,   He   is   a gentle   Christ!   He   is   a   loving   Savior,   and   they   who   seek Him   early   shall   find   Him!   May   you   seek   and   find   Him, for His name’s sake. Amen.    This sermon can be found in the book Spurgeon’s Sermons, Vol. X (The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit).  A PDF eBook of this volume is available free of charge at: http://www.ClassicChristianLibrary.com