As surely as the thought of the Lord’s coming is calculated to give joy to His people, so will it strike terror into the hearts and consciences of those who are not ready to meet Him.
I shall never forget when I first heard of it. I had a Bible of my own, and used to read it, but I had never thought of the Lord’s return. I was a Sunday-school teacher, and taught my class regularly, but I knew nothing of the Lord’s coming. I had listened to scores of sermons, but as far as I can recollect, I had never heard anyone preach plainly and solemnly about the Lord’s coming. I knew that the Lord Jesus had come into the world, had been born in Bethlehem, and laid in a manger, and that He had died on the cross; but it was all mere head belief, my heart had never been really touched, I had not learned my own sinfulness, and therefore I did not know the preciousness of the atoning blood.
As I look back now, I can see occasions when, in my early childhood and girlhood, God’s Holy Spirit must have been striving with me; occasions, when a sort of impression was made on my young heart, but these serious thoughts soon passed away under the influence of surrounding circumstances. I was highly imaginative, and very fond of reading works of fiction, which only served to hinder me from the perusal of anything better.
I am drawing a faithful picture of what I was in those days, and they who see it may express surprise that one so worldly should have been a teacher in a Sunday school. Yet mine was no solitary case; there are, alas! Many who have thus taught, and who yet have been votaries of pleasure as I was. But what did such teaching comprise? I heard my class say their lessons, I heard them read, and explained, after my own fashion, what they had read, but I could go no further. I could not even speak of conversion, as I knew nothing of it myself, in fact I had not learned the necessity of being “born again.”
Notices were published that a certain course of lectures would be given on the parable of the ten virgins. (Matt. 25:11-1311Afterward came also the other virgins, saying, Lord, Lord, open to us. 12But he answered and said, Verily I say unto you, I know you not. 13Watch therefore, for ye know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of man cometh. (Matthew 25:11‑13)). Only two verses were to be considered at each lecture. Strange to say, I had a wish to attend! Strange, looked at naturally, for what attraction would there be to me in anything of the kind? Had it been on Sundays it would have been different—it would have come as a matter of course—but it was unusual for me to think of going on a week evening to a religious lecture.
In the first two lectures there appeared nothing remarkable, and I easily forgot them, but the third has ever since given a coloring to my life. Then I knew that God had a special design in making me attend those lectures, and that it was all according to His will and purpose.
The preacher spoke graphically of the scenes connected with an Eastern marriage, and of the virgins who went out to meet the Bridegroom.
He spoke of the ten, who arose when the midnight cry sounded forth, but of whom only five were wise, for they only had oil in their lamps.
Then he depicted the excitement and despair of the foolish, whose lamps were already out, and their inability to get oil before the arrival of the Bridegroom, showing that when they came to the door they found it SHUT; He, and those who were ready, having already gone in! O! The horror of finding themselves SHUT OUT! Language would fail to describe the agony of that moment.
Then did the arrow of conviction pierce my heart, and I saw that I was a mere professor—one who, indeed, had a “lamp,” but who had no “oil.” The preacher had explained that the Holy Spirit, who indwells the believer, is what is meant by the oil, and I knew that He did not dwell in my poor sinful, worldly heart. The fact was that I was not ready—the Lord Jesus was coming again, and for His own people. Should I be “shut out” if He came then?
During that night I never closed my eyes in sleep—all the sins of my life arose before me in black array, and I saw what a hateful sinner I must be in God’s sight. I felt that I dared not sleep, for if I did, and the Lord Jesus came that night, I might be cast into hell from my bed without waking again in this world. That night was a crisis for me—a starting-point in my life.
At last the deliverance came. It was in the quiet of my own room, the precious Bible open, the chapter before my eyes being the tenth of the Gospel of John; words that I had read many and many a time, but which now, by God’s Spirit, were applied to my very heart with life-giving power (verses 27-30). O! The thrill of joy that ran through me when I saw the end of all my puny, useless efforts, and was enabled to rejoice in the double security of being grasped in the hand of the Son, and of the Father! Nothing now could pluck me out of that strong, sure hold; and eternal life, Christ’s own gift, was given to me! Now no longer was there dread in my heart at the thought of the Lord’s coming: that had given place to a calm, confident longing to see Him who had died for me, even the Blessed One who gave His life for the sheep. Often have I spoken of the tenth of John as my chapter, and to me it always is most sweet, for it recalls to mind the happy day when first I knew that my sins were blotted out, and that I belonged to the Lord Jesus. The twenty-fifth of Matthew, and the tenth of John are therefore peculiarly sacred and precious to my heart, and I must add that now, in later years, the closing verses of 1 Thessalonians 4, which speak of the Lord’s coming again, which gives full details of the manner of it, and affords a bright hope to console and encourage the bereaved.
I need not say any more about myself. If I did I could record many a failure, many a shortcoming, but I am still waiting, still expecting that great moment when the Lord will come again, and receive all His people unto himself. That moment draws nearer and nearer; God has not revealed unto us in His book when it will be, but He had bidden us to “watch.”
Let me add that in times of sorrow and affliction, the thought of the Lord’s speedy return can gild the gloom with a ray of hope, and dry the mourner’s tear; while at other times, when the energies of service seem to be on the wane, the thought that He will soon be here, tends to rouse the lagging spirits, and prove an incentive and a stimulus to action.
It is lovely to notice in the Epistle to the Thessalonians, that the return of the Lord is mentioned in every chapter. It is indeed a prospect to spread before all, young or old; a warning to those who, as worldly professors, are going on without Christ; and a bright hope to illuminate the pathway of those who really love Him. These Thessalonians were young converts, with hearts true to the Lord, which beat loyally in response to the hope set before them. This hope is a strong motive for earnestness in the preaching of the gospel, or when dealing privately with unconverted souls; a reason why we should seek to use every opportunity of leading others to Christ.
O! that we may all be ready, in that place of security from whence none can pluck us, so that to us, the best, the brightest, the happiest occurrence will be to hear the Archangel’s voice, the trump of God, and that assembling shout which shall bid us rise to meet our Lord!