In this sermon, Spurgeon speaks of and to “burden-bearers” of various sorts, comparing them to the Gershonites spoken of and to in the book of Numbers—a family in the tribe of Levi called to bear holy burdens and responsible for the moving of the priestly ornaments. As I’m presently one of these Gershonites—no longer bed-bound, but still in a daily state of suffering—it is not enough to view myself as “not worthless” but rather, to stand as a witness of God’s goodness in and through that suffering. This passage in Numbers 4 starts with the words, “The Lord spoke to Moses, saying…” before going on to describe the service and the life the Gershonites were to live. They were not an afterthought, nor were they they “less than” but, rather, were directly appointed by God for their task.

In my last article, I shared some verses1 that the Lord has repeatedly used to encourage and sanctify me over the past few years. These verses were especially heartening during a prolonged period during which I was housebound, and largely confined to my bed. Lying there, in vast amounts of pain, unable to sleep or even to find a single comfortable position, I struggled against a persistent sense of pointlessness. The enemy would come and remind me of just how frail I was, and how useless I felt. My only visitors were the people who lived with us, and I had no pastoral support at the time.
I felt very alone.
It was not the first time I’d been seriously ill, and, therefore, I knew that the Lord would be perfecting my suffering for his glory and for the good of his people. There were times though—sometimes due to spiritual drought and other times because of the wretched medicine I had to take—that the truth became hard to hold onto.
During this time, I had continued to disciple a number of young men in the church, (albeit on Zoom…and horizontally.) One day, between one call and another, I brought my struggle before the Lord and asked:
“What is the point? What am I good for now?”
After I had prayed, I picked up a book of sermons that sat by my bedside, and I began to read. I’d love to tell you about the sermon I stumbled upon that day, and about how God used it to transform my suffering once more, to change my life, and to renew my mind. In addition though, I wanted as many people as possible to be able to access this sermon, and so, I have recorded the sermon in full so you can listen on YouTube.
Burdens and Bedsides
That day, whilst reading the sermon above, the following words were an answer to prayer and a warm embrace:
There lies, at Dundee, at this present moment, a man who has been confined to his bed, I think it is now fifty-six years. I have his photograph at home, and the friend who sent it to me wrote, “I send you the likeness of the happiest man in Dundee, and one of the most useful, too, for he is a great soul-winner though he cannot raise himself from a constantly prostrate position. He talks so sweetly of Christ and of the upholding power of divine grace, that he leads many to put their trust in Jesus Christ.
I was six months in to what would be almost a year spent mostly in bed—though I didn’t know it yet. In that moment, my prayer railing against my uselessness was replaced by one petitioning God to use my bedridden state; even if it was to last another fifty-six years. The truth is, that often when we’re in states of suffering, we’re the first to declare ourselves a lost cause, even when we would never do such a thing to others.
Spurgeon goes on to say:
All over this land…there are bed-ridden men and women who are the saintliest among the saints. It is an atrocious lie that some have uttered when they have said that the sickness is a consequence of the sufferer’s sin. I could not select, out of heaven, choicer spirits than some whom I know who have not for twenty years left their bed, and they have lived nearer to God than any of us, and have brought to Him more glory than any of us.
It is true that there are some out there who will blame suffering saints for their status, I’ve met some personally.
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Written by M. R. Conrad |
Thursday, March 14, 2024
The exclusivity of the gospel is not a new doctrine created by a modern fanatical sect. From the beginning of the church age, Jesus proclaimed that He is the only way to God (John 14:6), and He gave the authority and the command to share this exclusive gospel with every creature of every nation (Mark 16:15).

Have you been there? You’re just trying to obey God and be a good witness for Jesus Christ (Acts 1:8). But suddenly, your pleasant conversation turns combative. This was not your intention, but there you are. The friend you care about is upset, and you feel like it is your fault. All you did was share truth from the Bible, but now you are the bad guy. How did this happen?
Now, the tension could be your fault. Your approach could be abrasive, condescending, or even rude. But, then again, the trip line could have been the message itself. Those set on going their own way stumble on the exclusivity of the gospel.
Jesus stated in no uncertain terms that there is only one way to God: “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me” (John 14:6). Why does the exclusivity of the gospel often provoke such a vehement response?
Exclusivity Eliminates Your Own Way
If there is only one way to God, then one’s own way is futile. Trusting one’s own good works instead of trusting in Jesus Christ alone is going one’s own way. A life of good deeds done for God and others goes to waste when considered to be merit that earns favor with God. All the credit one labored for a lifetime to accrue ends up like Monopoly money—the amount is high, but the eternal value is nil.
In the minds of those attached to their own way, a loving friend’s words pointing out such truths becomes a personal attack. What is meant in love sounds like judgment. Instead of hearing a plea to come to safety, those set on their own way hear only condemnation that they feel they could not possibly deserve.
Yet, God clearly warns those who cling to their own way: “There is a way that seems right to a man, But its end is the way of death” (Proverbs 14:12). That death—eternal death—is not inevitable. The prophet Isaiah explains, “All we like sheep have gone astray; We have turned, every one, to his own way; And the LORD has laid on Him [Jesus] the iniquity of us all” (Isaiah 53:6). Going one’s own way is sin, but Jesus Christ paid for that sin by dying on the cross. To benefit from His sacrifice, those going their own way must submit to the only way to God by putting their faith in Christ alone (Acts 4:12).
Exclusivity Demands Humility
Few who cling to their record of personal morality view this as insisting on their own way.
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Those who promote themselves without God’s authorization (i.e., recognition granted to them by the church – see Acts 13:1–3), gain position by giving it to themselves or taking it from others. Instead of waiting on the Lord to receive a ministry at the right time in the right way, those who are committed to making themselves great are unconcerned for how their ministry might impact others. They see a path to service and the popularity found from others is sufficient cause for continuing.

Throughout the Bible we find a divide between wisdom and folly, righteousness and sin, givers and takers, children of God and children of the devil. As Jesus said, he did not come to bring peace, but a sword (Matt. 10:34–35). And that sword not only divides humanity, which provides the context of his words in Matthew’s Gospel, it is also a sword that judges the thoughts and intentions of men. Indeed, God’s Word does more than declare behavior right and wrong; it does surgery on the heart, exposing why we do what we do.
In the Bible, and in the church, few things are more difficult to discern than motivations for ministry. For truly, as many good motivations as there are, there are also bad motivations. There is ambition that is godly and ambition that is anything but godly. And in every child of God who serves faithfully, there will be both impulses.
Just consider the Apostle Peter, who could confess Jesus as the Christ at the same time that he would deny him his cross (see Matt. 16:13–23). Indeed, at one time or another, all the disciples had a mixture of true and false ambitions, which is why Jesus had to correct their views on greatness (Mark 10:42–45). Truly, we are fickle creatures. And the best of men is both taught by God and tempted by the devil. Again, read Matthew 16.
So, knowing that, we should always be open to examining our motivations for ministries, and that is what this series is about. It aims to address false ambitions and to set a course towards true ambitions for ministry.
In Part 1, I offered two lessons from the life of Adonijah.

We should not seek positions in ministry; we should seek the righteousness to receive such a place of service.
We should abide by the word, and wait for an invitation to serve.

And now, in Part 2, I will suggest a third lesson from Adonijah’s life:

When kingdom-seekers exalt themselves, their ambition follows a discernible pattern.

This pattern consists of five actions that Adonijah pursued in his attempt to be king in Israel. And, as the story goes, he nearly succeeded. What ultimately prevented him from claiming the throne illicitly is that genuine servants of God stood to oppose him. His false ambitions were thwarted because the ambitions of others were rooted in God’s Word.
Sadly, this sort of conflict continues today.
In truth, only when righteous men and women stand against falsehood will truth prevail. Yet, this is exactly why it is vital to learn the pattern of those who exalt themselves. For in ministry, when good works are pursued with bad motives, it can be very difficult to discern. Often, the falsehood of good works takes years, even decades, to discern. Yet, Scripture does give us light, if we are willing to look. And that is what we find in Adonijah’s play for David’s throne.
Adonijah’s Ambition
When Adonijah exalted himself to a position of royal authority, he followed a pattern of action that many have followed before and since. Indeed, this pattern of self-exaltation is the exact opposite of Christ’s self-effacing, self-sacrificing service (see Phil. 2:5–8). Instead of humbling himself and waiting to be exalted, Adonijah used his resources to collect a following. And then, he attempted to build a kingdom with his followers. From his sinful example, we are warned of an ambitious nature that seeks ministry by means of self-promotion.
Now, of course, the pursuit of gospel ministry does not look like glory-seeking for most people. Yet, among those who worship in David’s rebuilt house (i.e., the church), there remains a temptation to self-exaltation. And tragically, those most skilled for ministry are most easily tempted. As with any good thing, it can become a god-thing (an idol). And that is one of the warnings that the story of Adonijah offers. For those seeking ministry and for anyone who might encounter someone promoting themselves in ministry. (And I would put myself in the camp of those who have had to learn to put selfish ambitions to death.)
Indeed, self-promotion is often covered by words of truth and acts of service. As a result, recognition of such self-serving can be missed or dismissed. Even more, many in the church can be deceived by zealous “servants” who exalt themselves with their service in ministry. This pattern of selfish ambition in God’s kingdom is not easily spotted, but it does have certain discernible patterns. For nothing is new under the sun, and in Adonijah we can see at least five steps to such self-promotion.
By examining his life, may we learn to seek new life in Christ.
Five Steps of Self-Promotion
1. Self-actualization.
In Adonijah’s case, he not only exalted himself, he vowed to himself, “I will be king” (v. 5).
The power of a self-made man is in his secret vow to do great things. In truth, not everyone who achieves great things is self-seeking, but many are. And when they are, they are often driven by some inward compulsion.
That compulsion may come from any number of family situations (e.g., the absence of a father, the neglect of a mother, competition with a sibling), or it may come from somewhere else. But wherever it comes from, the need to actualize self is not a godly motivation to serve from a heart overflowing with God’s love. It is profoundly human motivation, one that comes from a heart needing to find love or praise or glory from others.
And thus, the first step of self-promotion is a subterranean urge to be great. This urge may come forth viscerally in verbal statements marked by pride, competition, envy, or self-glorification. Or, it may be more subtle. It may be hidden and only seen in promises made to self or hidden in a diary.
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