They go from strength to strength. However you translate these words, they pulse with the promise of progress. The simple rendering is enough for us this morning: they go from strength to strength. That is, they grow stronger and stronger.

Now, in ordinary life, when we walk, we go from strength to weakness. We start out fresh, ready for the journey. But soon enough the road gets rough. The sun beats down. We collapse by the roadside, then drag ourselves up to limp along our weary way.

But the Christian pilgrim? Having received fresh supplies of grace, he is as vigorous after years of hard travel and struggle as when he first set out. He may not be quite so elate and buoyant. His zeal may not burn quite so hot and hasty. But he is far stronger in everything that really matters. He travels more slowly, perhaps, but far more surely.

Some gray-haired veterans grasp the truth as firmly and spread it as zealously as they did in their youth. But alas, let me confess: it's often otherwise. The love of many grows cold. Iniquity abounds. But that's their own sin, not God's fault. The promise still stands rock-solid: "Young people will faint and grow weary, and young men will utterly fall, but those who wait on the Lord will renew their strength. They will mount up with wings like eagles. They will run and not be weary. They will walk and not faint."

Meanwhile, fretful spirits sit down and trouble themselves about the future. "Alas!" they cry. "We go from affliction to affliction!"

Very true, O you of little faith. But then you also go from strength to strength. Listen to me: you will never find a bundle of affliction that doesn't have sufficient grace bound up right in the middle of it. God gives the strength of ripe manhood with the burden allotted to full-grown shoulders. He matches the load to the shoulders that must carry it.