Believer, what has happened to the Church? Are we not the body of Christ? Do we not gather as His body to worship, to edify one another by the exercise of our gifts, to fellowship, and to do good deeds? Have we become so rich that we no longer need Him, the One whose body we comprise (Rev. 3:17)? Do we believe ourselves so wealthy that we are in need of nothing (Rev. 3:17)?

The Church has been weakened by “churchianity,” which is all show and no go. We are, at large, become lukewarm and ready to be spit out of His mouth (Rev. 3:16). We have pushed Christ out and invited the world in. What happened to our zeal? We are called to be separate from the world, not like it. Light has no fellowship with darkness (2 Cor. 6:14). Christ has no harmony with Belial (Rom. 6:15). We have naught in common with unbelievers (Rom. 6:15)

Let us not stand naked and poor, with our reward stored up here rather than in heaven (Rev. 3:18). Instead, become zealous for Him (Rev. 3:19), not without knowledge, but because we know Him.

Behold, He stands at the door of the Church knocking (Rev. 3:20). Shall we leave Him out in the cold, or let Him back in where He belongs that He might dine with us (Rev. 3:20)?

We belong to Him. Let His hand rapping on the door of the Church not go unheard, but let it move us for Him.

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Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening Devotions

Evening, September 27

"My Beloved put in His hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for Him." Song of Solomon 5:4

Knocking was not enough, for my heart was too full of sleep, too cold and ungrateful to arise and open the door, but the touch of His effectual grace has made my soul bestir itself. Oh, the longsuffering of my Beloved, to tarry when He found Himself shut out, and me asleep upon the bed of sloth! Oh, the greatness of His patience, to knock and knock again, and to add His voice to His knockings, beseeching me to open to Him! How could I have refused Him! Base heart, blush and be confounded! But what greatest kindness of all is this, that He becomes His own porter and unbars the door Himself. Thrice blessed is the hand which condescends to lift the latch and turn the key. Now I see that nothing but my Lord's own power can save such a naughty mass of wickedness as I am; ordinances fail, even the gospel has no effect upon me, till His hand is stretched out. Now, also, I perceive that His hand is good where all else is unsuccessful, He can open when nothing else will. Blessed be His name, I feel His gracious presence even now. Well may my bowels move for Him, when I think of all that He has suffered for me, and of my ungenerous return. I have allowed my affections to wander. I have set up rivals. I have grieved Him. Sweetest and dearest of all beloveds, I have treated Thee as an unfaithful wife treats her husband. Oh, my cruel sins, my cruel self. What can I do? Tears are a poor show of my repentance, my whole heart boils with indignation at myself. Wretch that I am, to treat my Lord, my All in All, my exceeding great joy, as though He were a stranger. Jesus, thou forgivest freely, but this is not enough, prevent my unfaithfulness in the future. Kiss away these tears, and then purge my heart and bind it with sevenfold cords to Thyself, never to wander more.