He That Planted the Ear, Shall He Not Hear?
“The ears can hear everything, from the faint ticking of a small watch to the roar of a jet engine, a range of volume of nearly one million to one! It is fitting that one of the most marvelous organs in the body should be used to hear the Word of God.” (David Menton)
Sermon by Charles Haddon Spurgeon (1834-1892)
THE NOTION THAT GOD CANNOT SEE AND HEAR IS AN ABSURD NOTION. According to our text, it is proved to be unreasonable. “He that planted the ear, shall He not hear?” Think of that argument—here is a creature which has ears and can hear—the God who created that being— can He not hear? Has He given to His creature more than He has Himself? Has He made a creature which excels Himself in essential faculties? Has He bestowed a sense which He Himself never had? How can it be? The God that makes a man with ears to hear must possess hearing Himself.
He that invented the idea also planned the way by which hearing would become possible. What an intellect was that which forged the link between matter and mind, so that the movements of particles of air and the impression made by these upon the drum of the ear should turn into impressions upon mind and heart! God must have every power in perfection, or He could not have contrived and constructed such an admirable instrument as the ear.
I should not think the time ill-spent if I were able to give you a lecture upon the human ear. We know far less about it than we do concerning the eye. And my own knowledge of it is so scant that I can only glance at the subject. That outer portion which we commonly call the ear is only the vestibule of curious, intricate, winding passages which communicate with chambers of bone and vaults of ivory. Curtains are stretched along these passages—membranes which tremble as the head of a drum, or vibrate like a tambourine.
Between two of these parchment curtains a chain of very small bones is extended. Have you ever heard of the stirrup bone? Rows of fine threads, or nerves, convey the motion, or the sound, into the brain, and there the soul sits waiting for the news. It is all wonderful. Nor must I forget to remind you that the ear is “planted.” The important part—the real ear—is so deeply seated in the head, as to be beyond a mere external inspection. The lobe of the ear is like a leaf above ground but the hearing organ is “planted” in the skull. It is placed very near the brain and operates on both sides of it, so as to keep the whole mind in communication with sounds from every quarter. The ear is set deep and its chambers— some filled with air and some filled with liquid—are thus protected from much harm, which might otherwise come to them from the outer world.
An ear doctor who explained to you the mechanism of the ear should make you feel that an undevout member of his profession is mad. The infinite wisdom of God is seen in this gate of sense. And it is there in far greater measure than we can perceive. And can you believe that this marvelous instrument for hearing was made by a deaf God, or a dead God, or an impersonal power? Or that it came into existence through “a fortuitous concourse of atoms”? I know not the precise terms in which they now attempt to describe creation without a Creator, design without a designer. But I can say that those who believe in ears created by an unhearing force or being, have more faith than I can muster.
No, I venture to say that their faith has overleaped itself, has climbed to the top of the ladder and gone down on the other side—so that, instead of being great faith, it has rotted into gross credulity. To fly from the difficulties of faith to the impossibilities of unbelief, is a singular infatuation. I prefer to believe in a personal, intelligent First Cause.
But even if you had an ear made—and I suppose that it would be no very great difficulty to fashion, in wax or some other substance, an exact resemblance to an ear—could you produce hearing then? God alone gives the life which hears. That particular point in which motion is translated into audible sound—where is that? That thing which hears—I mean not the vibrating parchment, nor the telephonic nerves—but that living something which is informed by the nerves and reads their message—where and what is that something?
The surgeon searches with his knife but he declares that he cannot find it. No, he cannot find it—it has fled before his instrument of search. But this much is sure—once gone, he cannot restore it. He could not make it in the first place, nor renew it when once departed. Not the whole troop of surgeons and physicians of all the hospitals could suffice to create a soul. There is a spiritual something—the true man—and this it is which God makes. Do you know yourself? Could you put your finger on yourself? Oh, no. That mystic being, that strange, half God-like existence, the soul, is not within the range of our senses. He that made the soul, has He no soul? Can He not hear? O Sirs, the argument is plain enough. It needs no elaboration. It carries conviction at first sight.
You say, “but, surely, God does not see and hear everything. Look at my great sorrow—why does He allow it to grow and deepen? What keen miseries are caused by my thoughts! As George Herbert puts it, ‘My thoughts are all a case of knives.’ ” Just so. And yet the Lord knows and permits it all in love to your soul. He does not forget you. But, “like as a father pities his children,” so does He pity you. Do not be led astray by the idea that you are passed over and forgotten by your God. “He knows the number of the stars, He calls them all by their names.” And he knows you, also, especially and individually.
Last summer I noticed a small flower in the center of a beech-wood in the New Forest. Surrounded by the princely trees of the woods, it smiled from the sod, a modest beauty. I thought to myself, “When do you see the sun? Does his light and glory ever cheer you?” I tarried in that forest and watched the sunbeams smiling through the interlacing branches of the trees. And while I lingered I marked how, finally, the sun found out a way to pour his golden glory directly into the center of that flower, which glowed and smiled as Heaven thus communed with its littleness.
Whenever the Gospel is preached, dear Hearer, do really hear it. Remember how our Lord Jesus Christ said, “He that has ears to hear, let him hear”? Some people do not hear. I have often been thankful, when I have heard some people talk, that I have two ears, because, though their conversation goes in one ear, I thank God I can let it go out the other, and so it does me no harm! But if you are hearing the Gospel, mind that you do not act like that. Then let your two ears be two entrances for the Word. Do not have one for entrance and the other for exit, but, “let the Word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom.” Let it go in both ears and remain in your memory until it reaches your heart.