The road to joy

It is the darkness of the night that makes the dawn precious. It is the torment of pain that makes relief so sweet. It is the misery of sickness that makes recovery so valued. It is the grief of lostness that makes being found so wonderful. It is the emptiness of self that makes the fullness of Christ so delightful. It is the horror of the curse that makes the blessing of salvation so great. It is the weight of sin’s burden that makes its removal so overwhelming. It is the pain of rebellion that makes peace so dear. It is the distance of being cast out that makes the nearness of being drawn in so enticing. It is the frailty of the creature that throws the might and mercy of the Creator and Redeemer into sharp relief.

Read more at Reformation21.

The liberation of Latimer

I got home in the small hours last night, driving back from the Bulkington Lecture (more details to follow) where I had a thoroughly delightful time lecturing on the life of Hugh Latimer and enjoying fellowship with some of God’s people afterward (I don’t mean that I didn’t enjoy fellowship with others of them, I mean that they weren’t all there . . . oh, you know what I mean). Anyway, this morning I woke to this little nugget from Luther, the truth that set Latimer free from his spiritual bondage. Quite glorious:

Because an eternal, unchangeable sentence of condemnation has passed upon sin – for God cannot and will not regard sin with favor, but his wrath abides upon it eternally and irrevocably – redemption was not possible without a ransom of such precious worth as to atone for sin, to assume the guilt, pay the price of wrath and thus abolish sin. This no creature was able to do. There was no remedy except for God’s only Son to step into our distress and himself become man, to take upon himself the load of awful and eternal wrath and make his own body and blood a sacrifice for sin. And so he did, out of the immeasurably great mercy and love towards us, giving himself up and bearing the sentence of undending wrath and death.

via The Old Guys.

Heart disease

These are fearful words to most of us, and rightly so. To be told that you have heart disease is to be told of a fundamental threat to life. Sometimes the only options are radical surgery and a complete revolution in our lifestyle. Most of us – were we or one of our family members in such a position – would be very quick to do whatever was necessary to put the situation right. After all, our life would be on the line.

But there is a yet more terrible heart disease which we are often all too ready to ignore, but which kills us all. Even as you read, you are suffering from this heart disease, and you need to know the symptoms, diagnosis and cure.

Its symptoms are very evident. Are you self-centred? Are you envious of what others have? Do you lie and cheat? Do you curse and blaspheme? Do you get drunk? Have you ever stolen? Do you want or have you had a sexual relationship with someone who is not your husband or wife? Are you often angry? Do you hate someone? Do you never go to worship God? Do you ignore Sunday, God’s day, and do whatever you like? Do you think nothing of Jesus Christ? Are you disobedient to your parents? If any or all of the above symptoms are present, then you suffer from this heart disease

The diagnosis is equally plain. “From within, out of the heart of men, proceed evil thoughts, adulteries, fornications, murders, thefts, covetousness, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, an evil eye, blasphemy, pride, foolishness. All these evil things come from within and defile a man” (Mark’s Gospel, chapter 7, verses 21-23). In other words, you have a sinful heart that is contrary to God and his law, and for which you deserve to be condemned and punished. In one sense, you are already dead: dead in trespasses and sins.

Critically, then, is there a cure? Yes! God has provided a means to be healed from this most terrible disease of sin, but it requires radical surgery and a complete revolution in lifestyle. In Psalm 51, verse 10, we find a man with a sinful heart crying out to God, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.” Only this can save you from your sins. You need a new, clean heart from God, and you need to depart utterly from all your sinful ways.

Consider what is at stake: with your terrible heart disease of sin, you have only misery and condemnation to come. Get a new heart from God: he is rich in mercy to make men who are dead because of sin alive together with Christ. Come, then, to Jesus Christ, and you shall have everlasting life.

“In dark of night, when hell comes knocking”

9 9 9. 6

In dark of night, when hell comes knocking,
And demons all around are flocking,
And every sin and fear is mocking,
Lord, save me then, I pray.

At break of day, when tears are flowing,
And every fear and doubt is growing,
And there seems neither faith nor knowing,
Lord, save me then, I pray.

At every hour, with sin assailing,
When every tempting thought is wailing,
And every hope is quickly failing,
Lord, save me then, I pray.

In that great day, with angels soaring,
When praise from every saint is pouring,
I’ll look to Christ, and cry, adoring:
“Lord, save me now, I pray.”

©JRW

See all hymns and psalms.

Mustard and yeast

Some encouragements from a past Bishop of Liverpool, commenting on the two parables of the mustard seed and the yeast from Luke’s Gospel, chapter 13, verses 18 to 21. You might have a different exegesis to offer, but you will nevertheless appreciate Ryle’s sound Biblical sense:

There is a peculiar interest belonging to the two parables contained in these verses. We find them twice delivered by our Lord, and at two distinct periods in His ministry. This fact alone should make us give the more earnest heed to the lessons which the parables convey. They will be found rich both in prophetical and experimental truths.

The parable of the mustard seed is intended to show the progress of the Gospel in the world.

The beginnings of the Gospel were exceedingly small. It was like “the grain of seed cast into the garden.” It was a religion which seemed at first so feeble, and helpless, and powerless, that it could not live. Its first founder was One who was poor in this world, and ended His life by dying the death of a malefactor on the cross. –Its first adherents were a little company, whose number probably did not exceed a thousand when the Lord Jesus left the world. –Its first preachers were a few fishermen and publicans, who were, most of them, unlearned and ignorant men. –Its first starting point was a despised corner of the earth, called Judea, a petty tributary province of the vast empire of Rome. –Its first doctrine was eminently calculated to call forth the enmity of the natural heart. Christ crucified was to the Jews a stumbling-block, and to the Greeks foolishness. –Its first movements brought down on its friends persecution from all quarters. Pharisees and Sadducees, Jews and Gentiles, ignorant idolaters and self-conceited philosophers, all agreed in hating and opposing Christianity. It was a sect everywhere spoken against. –These are no empty assertions. They are simple historical facts, which no one can deny. If ever there was a religion which was a little grain of seed at its beginning, that religion was the Gospel.

But the progress of the Gospel, after the seed was once cast into the earth, was great, steady and continuous. The grain of mustard seed “grew and waxed a great tree.” In spite of persecution, opposition, and violence, Christianity gradually spread and increased. Year after year its adherents became more numerous. Year after year idolatry withered away before it. City after city, and country after country, received the new faith. Church after church was formed in almost every quarter of the earth then known. Preacher after preacher rose up, and missionary after missionary came forward to fill the place of those who died. Roman emperors and heathen philosophers, sometimes by force and sometimes by argument, tried in vain to check the progress of Christianity. They might as well have tried to stop the tide from flowing, or the sun from rising. In a few hundred years, the religion of the despised Nazarene, –the religion which began in the upper chamber at Jerusalem,–had overrun the civilized world. It was professed by nearly all Europe, by a great part of Asia, and by the whole northern part of Africa. The prophetic words of the parable before us were literally fulfilled. The grain of mustard seed “waxed a great tree; and the fowls of the air lodged in the branches of it.” The Lord Jesus said it would be so. And so it came to pass.

Let us learn from this parable never to despair of any work for Christ, because its first beginnings are feeble and small. A single minister in some large neglected town-district, –a single missionary amid myriads of savage heathen,–a single reformer in the midst of a fallen and corrupt church,–each and all of these may seem at first sight utterly unlikely to do any good. To the eye of man, the work may appear too great, and the instrument employed quite unequal to it. Let us never give way to such thoughts. Let us remember the parable before us and take courage. When the line of duty is plain, we should not begin to count numbers, and confer with flesh and blood. We should believe that one man with the living seed of God’s truth on his side, like Luther or Knox, may turn a nation upside down. If God is with him, none shall stand against him. In spite of men and devils, the seed that he sows shall become a great tree.

The parable of the leaven is intended to show the progress of the Gospel in the heart of a believer.

The first beginnings of the work of grace in a sinner are generally exceedingly small. It is like the mixture of leaven with a lump of dough. A single sentence of a sermon, or a single verse of Holy Scripture,–a word of rebuke from a friend, or a casual religious remark overheard,–a tract given by a stranger, or a trifling act of kindness received from a Christian,–some one of these things is often the starting-point in the life of a soul. The first actings of the spiritual life are often small in the extreme–so small, that for a long time they are not known except by him who is the subject of them, and even by him not fully understood. A few serious thoughts and prickings of conscience,–a desire to pray really and not formally,–a determination to begin reading the Bible in private,–a gradual drawing towards means of grace,–an increasing interest in the subject of religion,–a growing distaste for evil habits and bad companions, these, or some of them, are often the first symptoms of grace beginning to move the heart of man. They are symptoms which worldly men may not perceive, and ignorant believers may despise, and even old Christians may mistake. Yet they are often the first steps in the mighty business of conversion. They are often the “leaven” of grace working in a heart.

The work of grace once begun in the soul will never stand still. It will gradually “leaven the whole lump.” Like leaven once introduced, it can never be separated from that with which it is mingled. Little by little it will influence the conscience, the affections, the mind, and the will, until the whole man is affected by its power, and a thorough conversion to God takes place. In some cases no doubt the progress is far quicker than in others. In some cases the result is far more clearly marked and decided than in others. But wherever a real work of the Holy Spirit begins in the heart, the whole character is sooner or later leavened and changed. The tastes of the man are altered. The whole bias of his mind becomes different. “Old things pass away, and all things become new.” (2 Cor. 5:17.) The Lord Jesus said that it would be so, and all experience shows that so it is.

Let us learn from this parable never to “despise the day of small things” in religion. (Zec. 4:10.) The soul must creep before it can walk, and walk before it can run. If we see any sign of grace beginning in a brother, however feeble, let us thank God and be hopeful. The leaven of grace once planted in his heart, shall yet leaven the whole lump. “He that begins the work, will perform it unto the day of Jesus Christ.” (Phil. 1:6.)

Let us ask ourselves whether there is any work of grace in our own hearts. Are we resting satisfied with a few vague wishes and convictions? Or do we know anything of a gradual, growing, spreading, increasing, leavening process going on in our inward man? Let nothing short of this content us. The true work of the Holy Spirit will never stand still. It will leaven the whole lump.

Advancing Christ’s kingdom together #4

Introduction ∙ First group ∙ Second group ∙ Third group ∙ Fourth group

The previous sections of Andrew Fuller’s letter have seen this pastor-theologian begin by emphasising the principle of co-operation that ought to unite the whole body of Christ in holy endeavour, before going on to deal with two of the four groups of people to whom every pastor seeks to minister: “serious and humble Christians” and “disorderly walkers.” We have looked at Fuller’s counsels and sought to expand and apply them.

Now Fuller moves on to the third group he is considering: people “inquiring after the way of salvation.” This is the longest of the four treatments of these different groups, and the most developed. Fuller traces the declension of many churches to a lack of concern in the hearts of God’s people for the lost among them, and a lack of skill in “the world of righteousness.” He unpacks these twin concerns, and in doing so exposes an error that was prevalent in his own day, and may be prevalent in our own, especially in some churches.

While we will unpack some of the positive exhortations at the close of this post, it is worth noting that the error that Fuller is particularly keen to avoid is the tendency for counsellors of those awakened to their need of salvation to adopt some of the mistaken assumptions of those whom they are counselling. Specifically, Fuller says that many a one inquiring after salvation “is employed in searching for something in his religious experience which may amount to an evidence of his conversion; and in talking with you he expects you to assist him in the search.” Too many believers are ready to help in this quest, turning the eye of the seeker upon himself rather than upon Christ. Fuller is well aware of the fact that it is not wrong for someone to examine himself to see whether the evidences of true conversion are present in his life, but this is not his concern here. Rather, he is thinking of those who are seeking in their own experience some warrant to come to Jesus, some mark that they are ripe for salvation, or some indication from their own distresses or burdens that God is ready to receive them. Fuller’s point is that the gospel is all the warrant that is needed, and that those who look elsewhere are not looking in the right place, and do not in fact properly understand the gospel itself. What sinners need is Jesus as Saviour, and it is to him that we must point men.

Thirdly, In every church of Christ we may hope to find some persons inquiring after the way of salvation. – This may be the case much more at some periods than at others; but we may presume, from the promise of God to be with his servants, that the word of truth shall not be any length of time without effect. Our work in this case is to cherish conviction, and to direct the mind to the gospel remedy. But if, when men are inquiring the way to Zion, there be none but the minister to give them information, things must be low indeed. It might be expected that there should be many persons capable of giving direction on this subject as there are serious Christians; for who that has obtained mercy by believing in Jesus should be at a loss to recommend him to another? It is a matter of fact, however, that though, as in cases of bodily disease, advisers are seldom wanting; yet, either for want of being interested in the matter, or sufficiently skilful in the word of righteousness, there are but few, comparatively, whose advice is of any value; and this we apprehend to be one great cause of declension in many churches. Were we writing on ministerial defects, we should not scruple to acknowledge that much of the preaching of the present day is subject to the same censure; but in the present instance we must be allowed to suppose ourselves employed in teaching the good and the right way, and to solicit your assistance in the work. When the apostle tells the Hebrews that, considering the time, “they ought to have been teachers,” he does not mean that they ought all to have been ministers; but able to instruct any inquirer in the great principles of the gospel.

It has been already intimated that, to give advice to a person under concern about salvation, it is necessary, in the first place, that we be interested on his behalf, and treat him in a free and affectionate manner. Some members of churches act as if they thought such things did not concern them, and as if their whole duty consisted in sending the party to the minister. A church composed of such characters may be opulent and respectable; but they possess nothing inviting or winning to an awakened mind. To cherish conviction, and give a right direction to such a mind, we must be free and affectionate. When a sinner begins to think of his condition, such questions as the following will often cross his mind: – Was there ever such a case as mine? Are there any people in the world who have been what I am, and who are in the way to eternal life? If there be, who are they? Where are they? But if, while he is thinking what he must do to be saved, he neither sees nor hears any thing among you which renders it probable that such was ever your concern – if, as soon as a sermon is ended, he sees merely an exchange of civilities, and, on leaving the place, observes that all the congregation immediately fall into conversation about worldly things, what can he think? Either that there is nothing in religion, or, if there be, that he must seek elsewhere for it. The voice of a Christian church to those who attend upon their ministry should be that of Moses to Hobab: “We are journeying to the place of which the Lord hath said, I will give it you. Come thou with us, and we will do thee good: for the Lord hath spoken good concerning Israel.”

It is of great consequence to the well-being of a church, that there be persons in particular in it who are accessible to characters of this description, and who would take a pleasure in introducing themselves to them. Barnabas, who, by a tender and affectionate spirit, was peculiarly fitted for this employment, was acquainted with Saul while the other disciples were afraid of him. It was he that introduced him to the apostles, and declared unto them how he had seen the Lord in the way, and that he had spoken to him, and how he had preached boldly at Damascus in the name of Jesus.

Affection, however, is not the only qualification for this work: it requires that you be skilful in the word of righteousness; else you will administer false consolation, and may be instrumental in destroying, instead of saving souls. Not that it requires any extraordinary talents to give advice in such cases; the danger arises principally from inattention and erroneous views of the gospel.

If, brethren, you would assist us in this delightful work, allow us to caution you against one prevailing error, and to recommend one important rule. The error to which we allude is, Taking it for granted that the party has no doubts as to the gospel way of salvation, and no unwillingness to be saved, provided God were but willing to save him. Such are probably his thoughts of himself; and the only question with him is, whether he have an interest in Christ and spiritual blessings. Hence he is employed in searching for something in his religious experience which may amount to an evidence of his conversion; and in talking with you he expects you to assist him in the search. But do not take this account of things as being the true one: it is founded in self-deception. If he understood and believed the gospel way of salvation, he would know that God was willing to save any sinner who is willing to be saved by it. A willingness to relinquish every false confidence, every claim of preference before the most ungodly character, and every ground of hope save that which God has laid in the gospel, is all that is wanting. If he have this, there is nothing in heaven or earth in the way of his salvation. In conversing with such a character we should impress this truth upon him, assuring him that if he be straitened [hemmed in or restricted] it is not of God, but in his own bowels [inner being] – that the doubts which he entertains of the willingness of God, especially on account of his sinfulness and unworthiness, are no other than the workings of a self-righteous opposition to the gospel (as they imply an opinion, that if he were less sinful and more worthy, God might be induced to save him) – and that if he be not saved in the gospel way, while yet his very moans betray the contrary, we should labour to persuade him that he does not yet understand the deceit of his own heart – that if he were willing to come to Christ for life, there is no doubt of his being accepted; in short, that, whenever he is brought to be of this mind, he will not only ask after the good way, but walk in it, and will assuredly find rest unto his soul.

The rule we recommend is this: Point them directly to the Saviour. It may be thought that no Christian can misunderstand or misapply this important direction, which is every where taught in the New Testament. Yet if you steer not clear of the above error, you will be unable to keep to it. So long as you admit the obstruction to believing in Christ to consist in something distinct from disaffection to the gospel way of salvation, it will be next to impossible for you to exhort a sinner to it in the language of the New Testament. For how can you exhort a man to that which you think he desires with all his heart to comply with, but cannot? You must feel that such exhortations would be tantalizing and insulting him. You may, indeed, conceive of him as ignorant, and as such labour to instruct him; but your feelings will not suffer you to exhort him to any thing in which he is involuntary. Hence, you will content yourselves with directing him to wait at the pool of ordinances, and it may be to pray for grace to enable him to repent and believe, encouraging him to hope for a happy issue in God’s due time. But this is not pointing the sinner directly to Christ. On the contrary, it is furnishing him with a resting-place short of him, and giving him to imagine that duties performed while in unbelief are pleasing to God.

If you point the awakened sinner directly to the Saviour, after the manner of the New Testament, you will not be employed in assisting him to analyze the distresses of his mind, and administering consolation to him from the hope that they may contain some of the ingredients of true conversion, or at least the signs that he will be converted. Neither will you consider distress as ascertaining a happy issue, any otherwise than as it leads to Christ. If the question were, Do I believe in Jesus for salvation? then , indeed, you must inquire what effects have been produced. But it is very different where the inquiry is, What shall we do? or, What shall I do to be saved? The murderers of Christ were distressed; but Peter did not attempt to comfort them by alleging that this was a hopeful sign of their conversion, or by any way directing their attention to what was within them. On the contrary, he exhibited the Saviour, and exhorted them to repent and be baptized in his name. The same may be said of the Philippian jailer. He was in great distress, yet no comfort was administered to him from this quarter, nor any other, except the salvation of Christ. Him Paul and Silas exhibited, and in him directly exhorted him to believe. The promise of rest is not made to the weary and heavy laden, but to those who come to Christ under their burdens.

Once more, If you keep this rule, though you will labour to make the sinner sensible of his sin, (as till this case he will never come to the Saviour,) yet you will be far from holding up this his sensibility as affording any warrant, qualification, or title to believe in him, which he did not possess before. The gospel itself is the warrant, and not any thing in the state of the mind; though, till the mind is made sensible of the evil of sin, it will never comply with the gospel.

While in the first two categories of persons, our author was more concerned with the progress of the gospel intensively (that is, in the hearts of those converted, pursuing increasing godliness) here he turns to the progress of the kingdom extensively, in the conversion of sinners. Like Charles Spurgeon after him, Fuller wants the church to be a true ‘Salvation Army’: “We want, in the Church of Christ, a band of well-trained sharpshooters, who will pick the people out individually, and be always on the watch for all whom come into the place, not annoying them, but making sure that they do not go away without having had a personal warning, a personal invitation, and a personal exhortation to come to Christ” (Spurgeon, The Soul Winner, [Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1994], 135). Are you ready to play your part? If so:

• Consider whether or not you have played a part in the past. If not, then repent of your sins against men and God, particularly with regard to any lack of concern for the souls of men and any culpable failure to grasp the truth so as to be able to explain it to others. Pray God that – should you have the opportunity – you would be one who is willing and able to contribute in this way, and not merely ready to send the inquirer to the preacher, or someone else presumed to be competent in the matter.
• Remember that the whole church ought to be concerned in the salvation of the lost. Consider that it is not solely the pastor’s responsibility, neither only the officers’ business, nor a matter for the keen and zealous, but rather the concern of the whole local body.
• Then, pursue an affection for and accessibility to those burdened in soul. The former must spring from within, and must be nurtured with prayer for men. Pray for it generally, that God would give you a heart for the lost, and specifically, that God would bless this one or that one whom you know to be troubled in heart, and so stir up a holy regard and concern for the individuals who need Christ. Avoid all coldness, distance, pomposity, invasiveness, false joviality, and all the other boundaries to transparent and earnest conversation about things that matter. Seek the “tender and affectionate spirit” that characterised Barnabas, and made him such an encourager to Saul and countless others.
• Further, do nothing to inhibit the seeker or to counteract his concerns, especially in the immediate context of the worship of God. I distinctly remember as a child my disgust – as I felt it then to be – with the church for professing to be concerned with high and holy things, and yet to see men and women turn to each other within moments of a service ending to begin talking about things that simply did not matter. Perhaps I was right to be disgusted. Might we not see more results if our first questions to each other were less along the lines of “How was your week?” and more akin to “How are things with your soul?” Labour to communicate to others that you are as much concerned about your soul and theirs as they are or should be about their own, and that the things of eternity press more upon your spirit than the things of time.
• Remember that no special gifts or extraordinary talents are required for you to speak the good news about Jesus to a needy sinner. Do not be hindered by flawed and false expectations of yourself. Your primary qualification is your own experience of grace, “for who that has obtained mercy be believing in Jesus should be at a loss to recommend him to another?”
• In this regard, do not be sucked into a man’s own mistaken notions of his warrant for believing (see above), but rather make it your errand to point sinners directly to Christ as Saviour. Do not, first and foremost, urge them to attend more sermons, come to more services, read more books, search their hearts more diligently, consider their sins more humbly, pray for grace to repent and believe, or tell them simply to wait upon God’s time for a blessing. Though some of these counsels may be appropriate in a legitimate context and their proper place, our primary business as believers is this: to urge sinners as lost and needy to flee to the Lord Christ, and to trust and take Jesus Messiah as their Redeemer and Lord.

Introduction ∙ First group ∙ Second group ∙ Third group ∙ Fourth group

“O touch my heart with grace divine”

Lledrod L.M.

O touch my heart with grace divine,
The Father, Spirit, Son combine;
Save me through merit not my own:
Great Saviour, touch a heart of stone.

Touch me with mercy sweet, divine,
A sinner by my sins entwined,
My weakness great, my heart untrue,
Only the blood can make me new.

O touch me now with truth sublime,
The truth that conquers space and time,
And do what you alone can do:
Make me to know salvation true.

Touch now my heart with peace divine,
Safe knowing that the Lord is mine,
Each day show me undying love:
Show me anew, O heavenly Dove.

O touch my heart with love divine,
And let it through my being shine;
Sing out, my soul, to tell his praise,
To bless my God through endless days.

©JRW

See all hymns and psalms.

Reasons why some will not come to Christ

Gary Brady, on one of his myriad blogs, outlines a sermon by Benjamin Beddome suggesting at least eight sinful reasons why some will not come to Christ.

1. Some men will say they have no need to come to Christ.
2. Others imagine they are already come to Christ; and the act being performed, they have no need to repeat it.
3. Some previous engagement is another excuse which sinners make for not coming to Christ.
4. Some say they have tried but cannot come to Christ.
5. Others who are deeply bowed down in spirit, do not so much plead their inability, as their unfitness and unworthiness.
6. Some stumble at the austerities of religion, and the dangers to which it will expose them.
7. It is the fear of some that if they do come to Christ, they shall either be rejected, or dishonour him.
8. Many who do not come to Christ now, purpose to do so hereafter.

Gary fills out the headings with Beddome’s good, sound, Scriptural sense.  Read it all.

Learn more of Beddome in this excellent book from Banner.

Becoming and being a Christian

For those who may be interested, last Sunday morning I completed a series entitled Becoming and being a Christian.  Six sermons became nine in the act of preaching.  The aim was to trace the trajectory of a true Christian from new life through to death and glory, glancing briefly at some of the key way-markers along the pilgrim road.

• Looking to Jesus
• A new creation in Christ
• A true Christian (1) Inconclusive indications
• A true Christian (2) Indispensable indications #1
• A true Christian (3) Indispensable indications #2
• Biblical manhood and womanhood (1) Essential equality
• Biblical manhood and womanhood (2) Distinctive identity
• Working in and working out
• The Saviour and His servant

Colchester: scene of Spurgeon’s conversion

Kelvedon ∙ Stambourne ∙ Colchester ∙ Lavenham ∙ Dedham ∙ Maldon

By the time Spurgeon was fifteen years old, the family were living in Colchester, and Spurgeon was a student at Newmarket Academy, not too far away.  His father was the honorary pastor of the church in Tollesbury, about eleven miles from Colchester.  On the morning of Sunday 6^th January, 1850, the weather was extremely bad.  Charles’ mother suggested that rather than risk the ride over to Tollesbury with his father, the boy should find a church in Colchester to attend.

By this time in his life, Charles Spurgeon was profoundly affected by a deep and accurate sense of his own sinfulness, and could find no rest.  He said of this period:

When I was for many a month in this state, I used to read the Bible through, and the threatenings were all printed in capitals, but the promises were in such small type I could not for a long time make them out; and when I did read them, I did not believe they were mine; but the threatenings were all my own. “There,” said I, “when it says, ‘He that believeth not shall be damned,’ that means me!” But when it said, “He is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by Him,” then I thought I was shut out. When I read, “He found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears;” I thought, “Ah! that is myself again.” And when I read, “That which beareth thorns and briers is rejected, and is nigh unto cursing ; whose end is to be burned;” “Ah!” I said, “that describes me to the very letter.” And when I heard the Master say, “Cut it down; why cumbereth it the ground?” “Ah!” thought I, “that is my text; He will have me down before long, and not let me cumber the ground any more.” But when I read, “Ho! everyone that thirsteth ; come ye to the waters;” I said, “That does not belong to me, I am sure.” And when 1 read, “Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest;” I said, “That belongs to my brother, to my sister,” or those I knew round about me; for they were all “heavy laden,” I thought, but I was not; and though, God knoweth, I would weep, and cry, and lament till my heart was breaking within me, it any man had asked me whether I sorrowed for sin, I should have told him, “No, I never had any true sorrow for sin.” “Well, do you not feel the burden of sin?” “No!” “But you really are a convinced sinner?” “No,” I should have said, “I am not.” Is it not strange that poor sinners, when they are coming to Christ, are so much in the dark that they cannot see their own hands? They are so blind that they cannot see themselves; and though the Holy Spirit has been pleased to work in them, and give them godly fear and a tender conscience, they will stand up, and declare that they have not those blessings, and that in them there is not any good thing, and that God has not looked on them nor loved them.  (Autobiography, 1:85-86)

And again:

When I was in the hand of the Holy Spirit, under conviction of sin, I had a clear and sharp sense of the justice of God. Sin, whatever it might be to other people, became to me an intolerable burden. It was not so much that I feared hell, as that I feared sin; and all the while, I had upon my mind a deep concern for the honour of God’s name, and the integrity of His moral government. I felt that it would not satisfy my conscience if I could be forgiven unjustly. But then there came the question,—”How could God be just, and yet justify me who had been so guilty?” I was worried and wearied with this question; neither could I see any answer to it. Certainly, I could never have invented an answer which would have satisfied my conscience.  (Autobiography, 1:98)

The young man with his tortured soul set out into the snow, but the weather became rapidly worse.  Here it is good to recall that even the weather is in the hands of the sovereign God (Jb 37.6; 38.22), and a means of bringing his elect where he will, when he will.  Prevented from going much further, Charles turned into a side street, and came to the Primitive Methodist Chapel in Artillery Street.

We will let him give us the narrative, from his Autobiography (1:105-111).

Personally, I have to bless God for many good books; I thank Him for Dr. Doddridge’s Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul; for Baxter’s Call to the Unconverted; for Alleine’s Alarm to Sinners; and for James’s Anxious Enquirer; but my gratitude most of all is due to God, not for books, but for the preached Word,—and that too addressed to me by a poor, uneducated man, a man who had never received any training for the ministry, and probably will never be heard of in this life, a man engaged in business, no doubt of a humble kind, during the week, but who had just enough of grace to say on the Sabbath, “Look unto Me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth.” The books were good, but the man was better. The revealed Word awakened me; but it was the preached Word that saved me; and I must ever attach peculiar value to the hearing of the truth, for by it I received the joy and peace in which my soul delights. While under concern of soul, I resolved that I would attend all the places of worship in the town where I lived, in order that I might find out the way of salvation. I was willing to do anything, and be anything, if God would only forgive my sin. I set off, determined to go round to all the chapels, and I did go to every place of worship; but for a long time I went in vain. I do not, however, blame the ministers. One man preached Divine Sovereignty; I could hear him with pleasure, but what was that sublime truth to a poor sinner who wished to know what he must do to be saved? There was another admirable man who always preached about the law; but what was the use of ploughing up ground that needed to be sown? Another was a practical preacher. I heard him, but it was very much like a commanding officer teaching the manoeuvres of war to a set of men without feet. What could I do? All his exhortations were lost on me. I knew it, was said, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved;” but I did not know what it was to believe on Christ. These good men all preached truths suited to many in their congregations who were spiritually-minded people; but what I wanted to know was,—”How can I get my sins forgiven?”—and they never told me that. I desired to hear how a poor sinner, under a sense of sin, might find peace with God; and when I went, I heard a sermon on “Be not deceived, God is not mocked,” which cut me up still worse; but did not bring me into rest. I went again, another day, and the text was something about the glories of the righteous; nothing for poor me! I was like a dog under the table, not allowed to eat of the children’s food. I went time after time, and I can honestly say that I do not know that I ever went without prayer to God, and I am sure there was not a more attentive hearer than myself in all the place, for I panted and longed to understand how I might be saved.

I sometimes think I might have been in darkness and despair until now had it not been for the goodness of God in sending a snowstorm, one Sunday morning, while I was going to a certain place of worship. When I could go no further, I turned down a side street, and came to a little Primitive Methodist Chapel. In that chapel there may have been a dozen or fifteen people. I had heard of the Primitive Methodists, how they sang so loudly that they made people’s heads ache; but that did not matter to me. I wanted to know how I might be saved, and if they could tell me that, I did not care how much they made my head ache. The minister did not come that morning; he was snowed up, I suppose. At last, a very thin-looking man, a shoemaker, or tailor, or something of that sort, went up into the pulpit to preach. Now, it is well that preachers should be instructed; but this man was really stupid. He was obliged to stick to his text, for the simple reason that he had little else to say. The text was,—

“LOOK UNTO ME, AND BE YE SAVED, ALL THE ENDS OF THE EARTH.”

He did not even pronounce the words rightly, but that did not matter. There was, I thought, a glimpse of hope for me in that text. The preacher began thus—”My dear friends, this is a very simple text indeed. It says, ‘Look.’ Now lookin’ don’t take a deal of pains. It ain’t liftin’ your foot or your finger; it is just, ‘Look.’ Well, a man needn’t go to College to learn to look. You may be the biggest fool, and yet you can look. A man needn’t be worth a thousand a year to be able to look. Anyone can look; even a child can look. But then the text says, ‘Look unto Me.’ Ay!” said he, in broad Essex, “many on ye are lookin’ to yourselves, but it’s no use lookin’ there. You’ll never find any comfort in yourselves. Some look to God the Father. No, look to Him by-and-by. Jesus Christ says, ‘Look unto Me.’ Some on ye say, ‘We must wait for the Spirit’s workin’.’ You have no business with that just now. Look to Christ. The text says, ‘Look unto Me.'”

Then the good man followed up his text in this way:—”Look unto Me; I am sweatin’ great drops of blood. Look unto Me; I am hangin’ on the cross. Look unto Me; I am dead and buried. Look unto Me; I rise again. Look unto Me; I ascend to Heaven. Look unto Me; I am sittin’ at the Father’s right hand. O poor sinner, look unto Me! look unto Me!”

When he had gone to about that length, and managed to spin out ten minutes or so, he was at the end of his tether. Then he looked at me under the gallery, and I daresay, with so few present, he knew me to be a stranger. Just fixing his eyes on me, as if he knew all my heart, he said, “Young man, you look very miserable.” Well, I did; but I had not been accustomed to have remarks made from the pulpit on my personal appearance before. However, it was a good blow, struck right home. He continued, “and you always will be miserable—miserable in life, and miserable in death,—if you don’t obey my text; but if you obey now, this moment, you will be saved.” Then, lifting up his hands, he shouted, as only a Primitive Methodist could do, “Young man, look to Jesus Christ. Look! Look! Look! You have nothin’ to do but to look and live.” I saw at once the way of salvation. I know not what else he said,—I did not take much notice of it,—I was so possessed with that one thought. Like as when the brazen serpent was lifted up, the people only looked and were healed, so it was with me. I had been waiting to do fifty things, but when I heard that word, “Look!” what a charming word it seemed to me! Oh! I looked until I could almost have looked my eyes away. There and then the cloud was gone, the darkness had rolled away, and that moment I saw the sun; and I could have risen that instant, and sung with the most enthusiastic of them, of the precious blood of Christ, and the simple faith which looks alone to Him. Oh, that somebody had told me this before, “Trust Christ, and you shall be saved.” Yet it was, no doubt, all wisely ordered, and now I can say,—

Ever since by faith I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.

I do from my soul confess that I never was satisfied till I came to Christ; when was yet a child, I had far more wretchedness than ever I have now; I will even add, more weariness, more care, more heart-ache than I know at this day. I may be singular in this confession, but I make it, and know it to be the truth. Since that dear hour when my soul cast itself on Jesus, I have found solid joy and peace; but before that, all those supposed gaieties of early youth, all the imagined ease and joy of boyhood, were but vanity and vexation of spirit to me. . That happy day, when I found the Saviour, and learned to cling to His dear feet, was a day never to be forgotten by me. An obscure child, unknown, unheard of, I listened to the Word of God; and that precious text led me to the cross of Christ. I can testify that the joy of that day was utterly indescribable. I could have leaped, I could have danced; there was no expression, however fanatical, which would have been out of keeping with the joy of my spirit at that hour. Many days of Christian experience have passed since then, but there has never been one which has had the full exhilaration, the sparkling delight which that first day had. I thought I could have sprung from the seat on which I sat, and have called out with the wildest of those Methodist brethren who were present, “I am forgiven! I am forgiven! A monument of grace! A sinner saved by blood! “My spirit saw its chains broken to pieces, I felt that I was an emancipated soul, an heir of Heaven, a forgiven one, accepted in Christ Jesus, plucked out of the miry clay and out of the horrible pit, with my feet set upon a rock, and my goings established. I thought I could dance all the way home. I could understand what John Bunyan meant, when he declared he wanted to tell the crows on the ploughed land all about his conversion. He was too full to hold, he felt he must tell somebody.

It is not everyone who can remember the very day and hour of his, deliverance; but, as Richard Knill said, “At such a time of the day, clang went every harp in Heaven, for Richard Knill was born again,” it was e’en so with me. The clock of mercy struck in Heaven the hour and moment of my emancipation, for the time had come. Between half-past ten o’clock, when I entered that chapel, and half-past twelve o’clock, when I was back again at home, what a change had taken place in me! I had passed from darkness into marvellous light, from death to life. Simply by looking to Jesus, I had been delivered from despair, and I was brought into such a joyous state of mind that, when they saw me at home, they said to me, “Something wonderful has happened to you;” and I was eager to tell them all about it. Oh! there was joy in the household that day, when all heard that the eldest son had found the Saviour, and knew himself to be forgiven,—bliss compared with which all earth’s joys are less than nothing and vanity. Yes, I had looked to Jesus as I was, and found in Him my Saviour. Thus had the eternal purpose of Jehovah decreed it; and as, the moment before, there was none more wretched than I was, so, within that second, there was none more joyous. It took no longer time than does the lightning-flash; it was done, and never has it been undone. I looked, and lived, and leaped in joyful liberty as I beheld my sin punished upon the great Substitute, and put away for ever. I looked unto Him, as He bled upon that tree; His eyes darted a glance of love unutterable into my spirit, and in a moment, I was saved. Looking unto Him, the bruises that my soul had suffered were healed, the gaping wounds were cured, the broken bones rejoiced, the rags that had covered me were all removed, my spirit was white as the spotless snows of the far-off North; I had melody within my spirit, for I was saved, washed, cleansed, forgiven, through Him that did hang upon the tree. My Master, I cannot understand how Thou couldst stoop Thine awful head to such a death as the death of the cross,—how Thou couldst take from Thy brow the coronet of stars which from old eternity had shone resplendent there; but how Thou shouldst permit the thorn-crown to gird Thy temples, astonishes me far more. That Thou shouldst cast away the mantle of Thy glory, the azure of Thine everlasting empire, I cannot comprehend: but how Thou shouldst have become veiled in the ignominious purple for a while, and then be mocked by impious men, who bowed to Thee as a pretended king; and how Thou shouldst be stripped naked to Thy shame, without a single covering, and die a felon’s death;—this is still more incomprehensible. But the marvel is that Thou shouldst have suffered all this for me! Truly, Thy love to me is wonderful, passing the love of women! Was ever grief like Thine? Was ever love like Thine, that could open the flood-gates of such grief? Was ever love so mighty as to become the fount from which such an ocean of grief could come rolling down?

There was never anything so true to me as those bleeding hands, and that thorn-crowned head. Home, friends, health, wealth, comforts—all lost their lustre that day when He appeared, just as stars are hidden by the light of the sun. He was the only Lord and Giver of life’s best bliss, the one well of living water springing up unto everlasting life. As I saw Jesus on His cross before me, and as I mused upon His sufferings and death, methought I saw Him cast a look of love upon me; and then I looked at Him, and cried,—

Jesu, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly.

He said, “Come,” and I flew to Him, and clasped Him; and when He let me go again, I wondered where my burden was. It was gone! There, in the sepulchre, it lay, and I felt light as air; like a winged sylph, I could fly over mountains of trouble and despair; and oh! what liberty and joy I had! I could leap with ecstasy, for I had much forgiven, and I was freed from sin. With the spouse in the Canticles, I could say, “I found Him;” I, a lad, found the Lord of glory; I, a slave to sin, found the great Deliverer; I, the child of darkness, found the Light of life; I, the uttermost of the lost, found my Saviour and my God; I, widowed and desolate, found my Friend, my Beloved, my Husband. Oh, how I wondered that I should be pardoned! It was not the pardon that I wondered at so much; the wonder was that it should come to me. I marvelled that He should be able to pardon such sins as mine, such crimes, so numerous and so black; and that, after such an accusing conscience, He should have power to still every wave within my spirit, and make my soul like the surface of a river, undisturbed, quiet, and at ease. It mattered not to me whether the day itself was gloomy or bright, I had found Christ; that was enough for me. He was my Saviour, He was my all; and I can heartily say, that one day of pardoned sin was a sufficient recompense for the whole five years of conviction. I have to bless God for every terror that ever scared me by night, and for every foreboding that alarmed me by day. It has made me happier ever since; for now, if there be a trouble weighing upon my soul, I thank God it is not such a burden as that which bowed me to the very earth, and made me creep upon the ground, like a beast, by reason of heavy distress and affliction. I know I never can again suffer what I have suffered; I never can, except I be sent to hell, know more of agony than I have known; and now, that ease, that joy and peace in believing, that “no condemnation” which belongs to me as a child of God, is made doubly sweet and inexpressibly precious, by the recollection of my past days of sorrow and grief. Blessed be Thou, O God, for ever, who by those black days, like a dreary winter, bast made these summer days all the fairer and the sweeter! I need not walk through the earth fearful of every shadow, and afraid of every man I meet, for sin is washed away; my spirit is no more guilty; it is pure, it is holy. The frown of God no longer resteth upon me; but my Father smiles, I see His eyes,—they are glancing love; I hear His voice,—it is full of sweetness. I am forgiven, I am forgiven, I am forgiven!

When I look back upon it, I can see one reason why the Word was blessed to me as I heard it preached in that Primitive Methodist Chapel at Colchester; I had been up betimes crying to God for the blessing. As a lad, when I was seeking the Saviour, I used to rise with the sun, that I might get time to read gracious books, and to seek the Lord. I can recall the kind of pleas I used when I took my arguments, and came before the throne of grace: “Lord, save me; it will glorify Thy grace to save such a sinner as I am! Lord, save me, else I am lost to all eternity; do not let me perish, Lord! Save me, O Lord, for Jesus died! By His agony and bloody sweat, by His cross and passion, save me!” I often proved that the early morning was the best part of the day; I liked those prayers of which the psalmist said, “In the morning shall my prayer prevent Thee.”

The church building at Colchester remains the home of an evangelical congregation.  It is still in a back street, tucked away where it is difficult to see.  Its best-known convert is commemorated without and within.  As I understand it, it is still the case that only a few of God’s faithful people meet within in order to hear the Word of God being preached.  But who is to say that in this, or some other congregation like it in one of the world’s back alleys, a young man will not turn in tomorrow with his soul burdened under a profound sense of sin, and the unknown preacher will stumblingly make known to him the gospel, and the Spirit of God will take that word and bless it to his sin-sick heart, and make him whole.  Who knows but that there are young men being captured by Christ, who – enraptured with his saving love – will make it their life’s work to proclaim Jesus to a needy world.  And it will ever be the work of the Spirit to bless that word, and to make it effectual in the hearts of all God’s elect.

What are you relying on?

The ground of a certain rich man yielded plentifully.  And he thought within himself, saying, ‘What shall I do, since I have no room to store my crops?’ So he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build greater, and there I will store all my crops and my goods.  And I will say to my soul, “Soul, you have many goods laid up for many years; take your ease; eat, drink, and be merry.”‘  But God said to him, ‘Fool!  This night your soul will be required of you; then whose will those things be which you have provided?’  So is he who lays up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God.

The Gospel of Luke, chapter 12, verses 16 to 21

What will you be relying upon on the night when your soul is required of you?  Will you rest upon your money?  Are you hoping that you are good enough for God?  Are you counting on the fact that you are “spiritual” or religious?  Do you think that God won’t have a problem with someone like you?  Will you wait until just before you die to get ready?  Are you hoping it will all end with death?  Maybe you’re too busy to think about these things – too busy with your career, with your family, or just too busy having a good time?

Are you “taking your ease” without any eternal security?  Have you ever paused to consider the uncertainty of this life, and the certainty of your death?  What will you be relying upon when you face the Lord Jesus Christ, who will judge the living and the dead at his coming?

Perhaps you have already realised that you have nothing to rely upon?  You may have come close to death and found everything that you thought you could trust in evaporating, and leaving you without comfort.

Is there anything that will make you secure in this life, and in the life which is to come?  Is there anything or anyone that you can rely upon now and forever?

The Lord Jesus said: “This is the will of the Father who sent me, that of all he has given me I should lose nothing, but should raise it up at the last day.  And this is the will of him who sent me, that everyone who sees the Son and believes in him may have everlasting life, and I will raise him up at the last day” (John’s Gospel, chapter 6, verses 39 to 40).

“What are you relying on?”  You cannot afford to give the wrong answer to this question, and the only right answer is Jesus Christ.  Now is the time to turn to him.  We hear daily of men and women dying: some die slowly, some die suddenly.  Some see the end coming, others are surprised by it.  How many more of whom we never hear are passing hour by hour into eternity?  How few are truly prepared for it!

Put your faith in Jesus Christ, the only Saviour of sinners like us.

To learn more, listen here or here.

“Behold the blessèd Lamb of God”

Eden L.M.

Behold the blessèd Lamb of God,
Who for the world poured out his blood;
He died and suffered on the tree
That men the grace of God might see.

Behold the bleeding Sacrifice –
Salvation at unmeasured price.
He came to this dark world below,
God’s greatest blessing to bestow.

Behold the Saviour, Christ the King,
Let all his ransomed people sing
Of him, who to redeem us died,
But reigns now at the Father’s side.

©JRW

See all hymns and psalms.

Drowning

Imagine that you are drowning.  It is not a pleasant thought.  The water is closing over you once again . . . the waves still sweep over you as you flounder in a raging sea . . . you can feel the current sucking you under . . .  a record of your life rushes through your head . . . you can hear the surf pounding the rocks not far away, and threatening to pound you too . . . and you begin to sink for what may be the last time.  But wait!  All of a sudden a hand reaches out to you, and a strong voice bids you grasp that hand, and be raised up.  With what tears of relief would you grasp that hand, and what joy would be yours when you realise that, exhausted as you are, there is enough strength in that hand to hold on to you even when your grip fails again.

Many men and women are in a similar situation every day of their lives.  The storms of life wash over them, and waves of violence beat them, and rocks of distress pound them, and the  current of grief drags them down, and they feel that they are sinking forever.  In a raging sea like this, there is nothing to keep you afloat: all that the world has to offer is like a lead weight that only draws you under all the more quickly, and you become weary of fighting any longer.  And yet a hand reaches out to you, and a strong voice bids you to grasp that hand, and be raised up . . . and many men and women turn away, and struggle on in their own fading strength, until they are swept away into darkness.

The hand belongs to the Lord Jesus Christ, and he hears the desperate cries for help that go up from poor sinners struggling in the stormy waters. The sea in which you are drowning is the sea of sin, and there will come a day when you will sink for the last time, and the record of your life that passes before you on that day will be no comfort as you sink to death and judgement.  Christ sends his people to warn those who are drowning of the danger they are in, and to point them to the way of salvation, but so many ignore the help at hand, and some even refuse to see the wind and waves that threaten to overwhelm them.  And yet if you would only grasp Christ’s hand, then you would find that he is able to bear you up and to keep you safe.  The storm may not be over immediately, but his hand that holds you will never let you go, and you shall be eternally safe.

That hand is offered to you this day.  Christ reaches down and says to you: “Poor struggling sinner, weary and laden with pain and grief, will you not trust me? Will you not put your faith in me?  Will you not put your hand in mine?”

The Bible tells us that Jesus Christ is “able to save to the uttermost those who come to God through him” (Hebrews chapter 7, verse 25).  Those whom Christ does not save will not be saved – there is no other hope. Will you not therefore come to him now, that you might be saved from sin and have eternal life?  Will you not take the hand that he offers before you sink for the last time?

The pardon of sin

More from Abraham Booth’s The Reign of Grace, described by none other than Professor John Murray as “one of the most eloquent and moving expositions of divine grace in the English language.”

He speaks of Christ’s saving the thief on the cross at the very moment of his own greatest agonies:

Here we behold with wonder and contemplate with joy the conduct of the Lord Redeemer in making choice of one as his companion to glory, when he made his exit and left the world. Of one who had – not like Enoch, walked with God; not like Abraham, rejoiced to see the day of Christ, and longed for its commencement; nor like old Simeon, waited with ardent expectation for the consolation of Israel; but of one who, for aught appears to the contrary, had devoted all his time and all his talents to the service of Satan; of one, whom the sword of civil justice permitted not to live; and who, in the eye of the public, was less worthy of mercy than Barabbas himself, who was guilty of sedition and murder; was a vile incendiary and a bloody ruffian. Astonishing procedure of Jesus, the Judge of the world! When such a wretch is saved, who can despair? At that ever-memorable and amazing period, when the Son of the Highest was in the pangs of dissolution, Jehovah was determined to show, by an incontestable fact, that the salvation which was then finishing, originated in sovereign mercy, flowed in atoning blood, was equal to the wants of the most abominably wicked, and terminated in his own eternal glory, as its ultimate design. This, this is grace, indeed!

A few pages on, Booth hymns the manner in which grace reigns in the pardon of sin, summarising several paragraphs of his argument:

How glorious, then, is that forgiveness which is with God, that pardon I have been describing! It has every requisite to make it complete in itself, and suitable to the indigent, miserable sinner. It has not one discouraging circumstance to forbid the most guilty, or the most unworthy, applying to the ever-merciful Jehovah for it. It is full, free, and everlasting, every way complete and worthy of God. It was absolutely necessary to the peace of our consciences, and to the salvation of our souls, that it should be of such unlimited extent, of such unmerited freeness, and of such everlasting efficacy. Less than this would not have supplied our wants, or have served our purpose. If it had not been full, taking in every kind and every degree of sin, we must have suffered the punishment due to some part of it ourselves, and then we had been lost forever. If it had not been entirely free, we could never have enjoyed the inestimable blessing, for we have nothing, nor can we do any thing to purchase it, or to qualify for it. And if it had not been everlasting, never to be reversed, we should have been under continual anxiety and painful apprehensions, lest God should, on account of our present unworthiness or future failings, recall the blessing when once bestowed. But, being possessed of these properties, the vilest sinner has no reason despondingly to say, “My sins, alas! are too many and great for me to expect pardon.” None have any cause to complain, “I long for the blessing; it is dearer to me than all worlds; but my strong corruptions, and utter unworthiness, render me incapable of ever enjoying it.” Nor have any occasion to fear lest, after the comfortable enjoyment of the superlative privilege, they should forfeit it, and again come under condemnation and wrath.

Christian reader, have  you rejoiced over the grace of God in Christ this day, that has flowed freely, fully and everlastingly toward you in all your misery and sinful wretchedness?  Have you thanked God for loving freely one so vile as you are?

If you are not saved, is this free, full and everlasting pardon not precisely that which answers your most profound and pressing need?  It is to be found in Jesus alone, in whom God saves sinners like us.

Counting up

David Dickson lay dying on his bed, persecuted by the government of the day and under sentence of banishment.  A friend came to see him, who had known him for about fifty years.  As he sought to comfort the dying man, the friend asked how things were with his soul.  David Dickson replied: “I have taken all my good deeds and all my bad deeds, and thrown them together in a heap before the Lord, and fled from both, and laid hold of the Lord Jesus Christ, and in him I have sweet peace.”

David Dickson was a true Christian, and he knew how to count up.  How would you answer under the same circumstances?

Most of us like to think of ourselves as good people, especially when someone suggests that we are bad.  We are very quick to defend ourselves if someone exposes a flaw in our work or our character.  There is almost always a “Yes, but . . .” in which we pile up our good deeds against whatever counts against us.  We play this counting game in our families, at school, at work, and with friends.  We do it all the time.  We do it with God.

God’s law reveals our pride, unbelief and sin.  Do you use God’s name to curse?  Then you have broken God’s law.  Do you use the Lord’s day to worship God?  If not, you have broken God’s law.  God’s law exposes disobedience and dishonour to parents, anger, hatred, murder, lust, adultery, greed, envy, theft, lies, gossip, slander, and covetousness.  It points out sins in our hearts and in our lives.  And what do we do?

“Yes, but . . .”  We begin to pile up all the things that we think count in our favour.  We’re trying to tell God that he’s got nothing on us, that we’re actually good enough to please him.

How wrong we are!  God’s standard is pure and perfect.  He requires, with perfect fairness and justice, absolute righteousness from us.  Trying to make up for our sin with so-called good deeds is like trying to polish a dirty car with an oily rag: you can redistribute the mess, but nothing gets any cleaner.  In fact, God’s Word tells us that all our efforts at righteousness – the best we have to offer – are like filthy rags that cannot cover our sin.

Our good deeds simply are not good enough.  They may soothe the conscience somewhat, but they cannot satisfy a holy God.  However, God – in his great mercy – has himself provided a perfect righteousness in Christ Jesus.  He is willing to forgive both our sins and our poor attempts to cover them, and to put to our account the perfection of his Son, Jesus Christ, who came to this world to save sinners by dying in their place, suffering the punishment that we deserve, that we might obtain his righteousness.

This is the good news: that God has provided for sinners – through Christ Jesus – a perfect righteousness, offered to all who repent of their sins and trust in Christ for salvation.

David Dickson knew how to count up.  He took all the deeds he knew were bad, and all the deeds he thought were good, and he threw them all aside, and turned to Christ.  He died with peace and joy, trusting in Jesus Christ and his righteousness.  What about you?

“The Christian Life: A Doctrinal Introduction”

The Christian Life: A Doctrinal Introduction by Sinclair B. Ferguson

Banner of Truth, 1981 (218pp, pbk)

The premise of this volume is that Christians need a firm and accurate grasp upon the basic doctrines of our faith, the fundamental realities of true religion, in order to lead lives that bring glory to God: “how we think is one of the great determining factors in how we live” (2).  Nothing is more practical than doctrine.

With this underpinning principle established, the author carries us on through a total of 18 chapters in what is, in effect, a slightly expanded treatment of the ordo salutis (the order of salvation, or sequence in which the saving benefits of Christ’s death are applied in the experience of a child of God).  He begins with the context in which salvation is necessary – ‘God’s broken image’ – before outlining the plan of grace and working through the elements of God’s plan.  There is more than a passing nod to the outstanding treatment of Professor John Murray in Redemption Accomplished and Applied, but Professor Ferguson’s treatment is more popular and slightly broader.  For example, the chapter titles are less technical (Murray’s ‘Effectual calling’ is Ferguson’s ‘Called by God, for ‘Regeneration’ is given ‘Born again’, in place of ‘Adoption’ we have ‘Sons of God’) and the style more friendly for the average reader.  Furthermore, the material is less dense and more developed, more expansive, more fully explained and applied.  For example, there are chapters on conviction of sin and election woven in; there are chapters on both faith and repentance that make plain the connections between the two while treating each in its own right.  The saint’s pursuit of holiness and increasing conformity to Christ are addressed in three chapters on the end of sin’s dominion, Christian conflict with sin, and crucifying sin.  Before addressing glorification, we are given instruction on falling asleep in Christ.

This is systematic theology at its most accessible and profitable.  Step by step, Professor Ferguson leads us along the wonderful tapestry of God’s dealings with us in Christ, pointing out the details, pausing to admire the handiwork, and not ceasing to make plain that these are not boxes to be ticked as a matter of dry orthodoxy, but truths to be lived.  As a parent might first chew meat to soften it up for an infant to eat and digest, so this is chewed-up soteriology suitable for an audience not theologically astute or untrained.  I do not mean by that to suggest that this is a book for children alone: rather, these are truths made accessible for everyone, and it would do many saints of mature years much good to use this as a means to maturity of understanding.  That said, it would be ideal material for older and adult Sunday School classes, family worship for couples or those with older children, as well as simple instructional and devotional reading.

The prayerful and attentive reader will be well served by this volume.  You walk away from each chapter not only persuaded that doctrine should make a difference, but that it does and how it does – the difference that this particular element of the plan of salvation will make to you in your life.  This is indeed an outstanding doctrinal introduction, and one which should gladden the heart of every earnest child of God.

New beginnings

Can you remember your last set of new year’s resolutions? Did you make any new resolutions for the millennium, just a few years ago? Have you managed to stick to all of them? Some of them? Any of them?

We often make big plans for a new beginning. Sometimes we take advantage of a change of location or vocation. You go to a new school, start a new job, move to a new area. You might hope that this time round it will be different, that the problems that might have dogged you before will disappear, that you won’t have to face old frustrations again. But don’t we often take our problems with us, and find that – although things around us have changed – we haven’t changed very much ourselves?

Sometimes we attempt a deliberate change to our way of life: a new diet, a new “lifestyle”, a new exercise regime, or something else that promises ‘a new you’. But how often do we find our resolve weakening quickly, old habits dying hard, and the ‘old you’ pushing to the surface?

If things get really bad, perhaps we would even like the opportunity to “start over” – to leave everything behind and start from scratch. Perhaps you have even tried that – family failures, broken marriages, criminal activity, wrecked lives and crushed hopes – and you haven’t really escaped yet?

Genuinely new beginnings are desperately hard to make, and the most important one – one that lies at the root of all lasting change – is a change of our relationship to God: “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new. . . . God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself, not imputing their trespasses against them” (the Second Letter to the Corinthians, chapter 5, verses 17-19).

This is a genuinely new beginning, a radical change in our relationship with God. We are sinners, cut off from God and hope, but when we are reconciled to God – brought back into a right relationship with him – then all things become new. This lies at the root of all new beginnings: this is the starting point for a genuinely new life on earth, and eternal life in heaven.

How does this happen? “If anyone is in Christ he is a new creation.” Such a new beginning takes place through believing in Jesus Christ: “God made him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in him.” The genuine hope of a new beginning is not found in you, but in Jesus Christ. Come to him, and you will have new life and real hope, now and forever.

What is faith?

Repentant sinners sometimes agitate over whether or not they really are believing. Fearful saints often agonize over whether or not they have faith. What is it? Are they deluding themselves? Are they really trusting?

There are at least two misconceptions that often lie behind such concerns. The first is the felt need for something that feels real and definite, perhaps for something that is palpably concrete, even spectacular. “Is it real?” is the question. “Have I really put saving faith in Jesus Christ?” It has to do more with the right kind of faith, the reality of faith. The second has to do with degrees of faith. In essence, the question becomes, “Do I have enough faith?” The crisis hinges on whether or not we really are savingly attached to Jesus Christ with the kind of grip that truly delivers from sin and death and hell.

Both of these misconceptions have a common root. In both instances, the fearful one is looking at something in himself rather than at the fulness that is in Christ. Often, deeply distressed persons will assure a friend that they have no doubts whatsoever about the ability of Christ to save, but they wonder whether he has saved them, whether they really have faith. The problem may lie with false notions of what justifying faith really is, in its proper relation to Jesus Christ.

We must never forget that it is Christ who saves by faith. It is not faith in and of itself that delivers a soul from death, but Christ. Faith reaches out to Christ. Weak faith in a strong Christ saves just as well as far stronger faith! And that faith is not necessarily a spectacular event; it is not necessarily something which is felt with consistent passion and constant awareness. It is, in essence, a simple thing. In chapter 15 of his work On Justification, John Owen asks and gently answers the question, “What is faith?” The answers are drawn from the language of Scripture. It does us good to set Christ before us, and to consider the Scripture language for saving faith in all its simple sweetness, and to rest in the unchangeable Christ with confidence in him, and not in the presence of absence of felt vigour in the faith which holds fast to him.

The truth which we plead has two parts:- 1. That the righteousness of God imputed to us, unto the justification of life, is the righteousness of Christ, by whose obedience we are made righteous. 2. That it is faith alone which on our part is required to interest us in that righteousness, or whereby we comply with God’s grant and communication of it, or receive it unto our use and benefit; for although this faith is in itself the radical principle of all obedience, – and whatever is not so, which cannot, which does not, on all occasions, evidence, prove, show, or manifest itself by works, is not of the same kind with it, – yet, as we are justified by it, its act and duty is such, or of that nature, as that no other grace, duty, or work, can be associated with it, or be of any consideration. And both these are evidently confirmed in that description which is given us in the Scripture of the nature of faith and believing unto the justification of life.

I know that many expressions used in the declaration of the nature and work of faith herein are metaphorical, at least are generally esteemed so to be; – but they are such as the Holy Ghost, in his infinite wisdom, thought meet to make use of for the instruction and edification of the church. And I cannot but say, that those who understand not how effectually the light of knowledge is communicated unto the minds of them that believe by them, and a sense of the things intended unto their spiritual experience, seem not to have taken a due consideration of them. Neither, whatever skill we pretend unto, do we know always what expressions of spiritual things are metaphorical. Those oftentimes may seem so to be, which are most proper. However, it is most safe for us to adhere unto the expressions of the Holy Spirit, and not to embrace such senses of things as are inconsistent with them, and opposite unto them. Wherefore, –

1. That faith whereby we are justified is most frequently in the New Testament expressed by receiving. This notion of faith has been before spoken unto, in our general inquiry into the use of it in our justification. It shall not, therefore, be here much again insisted on. Two things we may observe concerning it:- First, That it is so expressed with respect unto the whole object of faith, or unto all that does any way concur unto our justification; for we are said to receive Christ himself: “As many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God,” John i. 12; “As ye have received Christ Jesus the Lord,” Col. ii. 6. In opposition hereunto unbelief is expressed by not receiving of him, John i. 11; iii. 11; xii. 48; xiv. 17. And it is a receiving of Christ as he is “The Lord our Righteousness,” as of God he is made righteousness unto us. And as no grace, no duty, can have any co-operation with faith herein, – this reception of Christ not belonging unto their nature, nor comprised in their exercise, – so it excludes any other righteousness from our justification but that of Christ alone; for we are “justified by faith.” Faith alone receives Christ; and what it receives is the cause of our justification, whereon we become the sons of God. So we “receive the atonement” made by the blood of Christ, Rom. v. 11; for “God hath set him forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood.” And this receiving of the atonement includes the soul’s approbation of the way of salvation by the blood of Christ, and the appropriation of the atonement made thereby unto our own souls. For thereby also we receive the forgiveness of sins: “That they may receive forgiveness of sins … by faith that is in me,” Acts xxvi. 18. In receiving Christ we receive the atonement; and in the atonement we receive the forgiveness of sins. But, moreover, the grace of God, and righteousness itself, as the efficient and material cause of our justification, are received also; even the “abundance of grace and the gift of righteousness,” Rom. v. 17. So that faith, with respect unto all the causes of justification, is expressed by “receiving;” for it also receives the promise, the instrumental cause on the part of God thereof, Acts ii. 41; Heb. ix. 15. Secondly, That the nature of faith, and its acting with respect unto all the causes of justification, consisting in receiving, that which is the object of it must be offered, tendered, and given unto us, as that which is not our own, but is made our own by that giving and receiving. This is evident in the general nature of receiving. And herein, as was observed, as no other grace or duty can concur with it, so the righteousness whereby we are justified can be none of our own antecedent unto this reception, nor at any time inherent in us. Hence we argue, that if the work of faith in our justification be the receiving of what is freely granted, given, communicated, and imputed unto us, – that is, of Christ, of the atonement, of the gift of righteousness, of the forgiveness of sins, – then have our other graces, our obedience, duties, works, no influence into our justification, nor are any causes or conditions thereof; for they are neither that which does receive nor that which is received, which alone concur thereunto.

2. Faith is expressed by looking: “Look unto me, and be ye saved,” Isa. xlv. 22; “A man shall look to his Maker, and his eyes shall have respect unto the Holy One of Israel,” chap. xvii. 7; “They shall look upon me whom they have pierced,” Zech. xii. 10. See Ps. cxxiii. 2. The nature hereof is expressed, John iii. 14, 15, “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up: that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life.” For so was he to be lifted up on the cross in his death, John viii. 28, chap. xii. 32. The story is recorded Numb. xxi. 8, 9. I suppose none doubt but that the stinging of the people by fiery serpents, and the death that ensued thereon, were types of the guilt of sin, and the sentence of the fiery law thereon; for these things happened unto them in types, 1 Cor. x. 11. When any was so stung or bitten, if he betook himself unto any other remedies, he died and perished. Only they that looked unto the brazen serpent that was lifted up were healed, and lived; for this was the ordinance of God, – this way of healing alone had he appointed. And their healing was a type of the pardon of sin, with everlasting life. So by their looking is the nature of faith expressed, as our Saviour plainly expounds it in this place: “So must the Son of man be lifted up, that whosoever believeth in him,” – that is, as the Israelites looked unto the serpent in the wilderness, – [“should not perish.”] And although this expression of the great mystery of the gospel by Christ himself has been by some derided, or, as they call it, exposed, yet is it really as instructive of the nature of faith, justification, and salvation by Christ, as any passage in the Scripture. Now, if faith, whereby we are justified, and in that exercise of it wherein we are so, be a looking unto Christ, under a sense of the guilt of sin and our lost condition thereby, for all, for our only help and relief, for deliverance, righteousness, and life, then is it therein exclusive of all other graces and duties whatever; for by them we neither look, nor are they the things which we look after. But so is the nature and exercise of faith expressed by the Holy Ghost; and they who do believe understand his mind. For whatever may be pretended of metaphor in the expression, faith is that act of the soul whereby they who are hopeless, helpless, and lost in themselves, do, in a way of expectancy and trust, seek for all help and relief in Christ alone, or there is not truth in it. And this also sufficiently evinces the nature of our justification by Christ.

3. It is, in like manner, frequently expressed by coming unto Christ: “Come unto me, all ye that labour,” Matt. xi. 28. See John vi. 35, 37, 45, 65; vii. 37. To come unto Christ for life and salvation, is to believe on him unto the justification of life; but no other grace or duty is a coming unto Christ: and therefore have they no place in justification. He who has been convinced of sin, who has been wearied with the burden of it, who has really designed to fly from the wrath to come, and has heard the voice of Christ in the gospel inviting him to come unto him for help and relief, will tell you that this coming unto Christ consists in a man’s going out of himself, in a complete renunciation of all his own duties and righteousness, and betaking himself with all his trust and confidence unto Christ alone, and his righteousness, for pardon of sin, acceptation with God, and a right unto the heavenly inheritance. It may be some will say this is not believing, but canting; be it so: we refer the judgment of it to the church of God.

4. It is expressed by fleeing for refuge: Heb. vi. 18, “Who have fled for refuge, to lay hold on the hope set before us.” [See] Prov. xviii. 10. Hence some have defined faith to be “perfugium animæ,” the flight of the soul unto Christ for deliverance from sin and misery. And much light is given unto the understanding of the thing intended thereby. For herein it is supposed that he who believes is antecedently thereunto convinced of his lost condition, and that if he abide therein he must perish eternally; that he has nothing of himself whereby he may be delivered from it; that he must betake himself unto somewhat else for relief; that unto this end he considers Christ as set before him, and proposed unto him in the promise of the gospel; that he judges this to be a holy, a safe way, for his deliverance and acceptance with God, as that which has the characters of all divine excellencies upon it: hereon he flees unto it for refuge, that is, with diligence and speed, that he perish not in his present condition; he betakes himself unto it by placing his whole trust and affiance thereon. And the whole nature of our justification by Christ is better declared hereby, unto the supernatural sense and experience of believers, than by a hundred philosophical disputations about it.

5. The terms and notions by which it is expressed under the Old Testament are, leaning on God, Mic. iii. 11; or Christ, Cant. viii. 5; – rolling or casting ourselves and our burden on the Lord, Ps. xxii. 8, [margin,] xxxvii. 5 – (the wisdom of the Holy Ghost in which expressions has by some been profanely derided); – resting on God, or in him, 2 Chron. xiv. 11; Ps. xxxvii. 7; – cleaving, trusting, hoping, and waiting, in places innumerable. And it may be observed, that those who acted faith as it is thus expressed, do everywhere declare themselves to be lost, hopeless, helpless, desolate, poor, orphans; whereon they place all their hope and expectation on God alone. unto the Lord, Deut. iv. 4; Acts xi. 23; as also by

All that I would infer from these things is, that the faith whereby we believe unto the justification of life, or which is required of us in a way of duty that we may be justified, is such an act of the whole soul whereby convinced sinners do wholly go out of themselves to rest upon God in Christ for mercy, pardon, life, righteousness, and salvation, with an acquiescence of heart therein; which is the whole of the truth pleaded for.