SALVATION may be regarded from three different standpoints. We may speak of the salvation of the souls of the unsaved—of the salvation through the trials and dangers of this world of those whose souls are saved—and of that final salvation which awaits the believer; his being saved out of the world, and his being brought to glory. Salvation, therefore, may be regarded as past, present, and future.
The salvation of the soul of the believer is an accomplished fact—it is a solid and enduring work—it is wrought by God and unalterable, and every one who truly believes on the Lord Jesus Christ is saved. But if the soul be saved from wrath to come, there is still a constant need for the almighty hand of God in saving the believer through all the countless dangers and difficulties of daily life. Satan, the world, and the flesh are fierce foes from which every child of God stands in continual need of salvation.
The two standpoints, from which we view the past and the present salvation, are often confounded in the mind of the believer; he so deeply feels the need of daily salvation from his spiritual foes—and from himself, we may add—that thereby he frequently loses sight of what God's work in the salvation of his soul really is. The future salvation—the coming deliverance from this earth, and this body of humiliation, into the liberty of heaven and the glorified state—is perhaps not generally confounded with the past and the present salvation which is the believer's; but, unless the past and the present has each its due place assigned to it, the enjoyment of the certainty of the future salvation will certainly be wanting.
The very term salvation implies the necessity for a Saviour. The use of such a word carries with it the acknowledgment that the person requiring salvation is, to say the least, in a position of danger. A man at ease in his armchair at home, when all is well, does not require salvation, but if his house were on fire the whole case would be altered. A sinner is in danger of hell fire—such is his position. He is also lost, inasmuch as he cannot save himself out of his position of danger. A man whose house was burning might or might not be able to save himself, just as the means of escape were or were not to hand; but there is no alternative open to the sinner; he is not only in danger of hell fire, he is also lost, and, if he is to be saved, he must be saved, not by himself, but by a Saviour.
Until we believe our lost state and our position of danger there will be little concern in our souls as to salvation. When the jailor of Philippi felt the earthquake, saw the prison doors all open, and heard the calm voices of the beloved gospel laborers—" Do thyself no harm," his conscience, awakened and appalled, drove him to the prisoners' feet with the cry, " Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" (Acts 16:3030And brought them out, and said, Sirs, what must I do to be saved? (Acts 16:30).)
Our first concern must be to seek to show the sinner the danger of his position. Unless a man knows that he is lost, he will not wish to be saved. And when he knows it, he will feel it. When the man seated quietly in his armchair on the top floor of his house knew that all was ablaze below, straightway he felt the misery of his lost position. Five minutes previous to his knowing that the house beneath him was in flames he felt comfortable and at ease, but the knowledge of the fact of the fire below made him feel in a moment what an awful thing it is to be lost. So, when the word of God comes home to the heart with power, straightway the sinner leaps out of his ease and comfort, and wide awake to the realities of eternity, longs and cries for salvation.
There is no such thing as being in a state of salvation, as to the question of sins. A man may be going to the booking office to get his ticket, but he has not got his ticket till he has got it. He may be going to obtain a place in the train, but he is not in the train till he is in it. Maybe he will be too late, or perhaps he has not the money to pay for the ticket; his intentions will not secure him a seat, His intentions may be very wise, and we will recognize the admirable resolves of many a poor sinner, but of what worth are they? Too many perish, despite their wise intentions; the old saying, that the way to hell is paved with good resolutions, is terribly true. Let us look at the question in the light of our everyday behavior. Did we ever hear of anyone who was bent upon going by train to a certain city being satisfied with merely wishing to get his ticket, and never getting a seat in the train going thither? What should we say, in this practical age, if our neighbor, who had but five minutes to catch a train, quietly seated himself by the wayside, and in answer to our warning, "You will be too late," drowsily answered, "I hope I shall be in time"? What should we say of our friend's intentions?
Yet such is the character of the answers we too often receive in response to the appeal to the lazy sinner to arouse himself and seek for mercy. Men tell us they hope they shall get to heaven someday, and remain satisfied with their baseless hopes. Whether they have any divinely given certainty for their hopes, alas, never seems to enter their minds. So long as there is an indefinite, misty kind of indifferent intention on their part to look some day or other for salvation, these souls would have us believe they have good cause for satisfaction that by-and-by they will by some hap reach heaven. Alas, alas, there are thousands of immortal souls who treat the question of eternal salvation with far less concern than their daily business of catching a train at a railway station! What an awful memory to carry about through eternity, " I was more in earnest not to be late for my daily train than I was all my lifetime as to the salvation of my never-dying soul."
God frequently uses the earnestness of those who are saved to convince the unsaved of their lost state; on the other hand, the devil has no better recruiting officer than a worldly, half-and-half believer. A man overboard in the ocean is lost; he is in imminent danger of death; it is simply a question of time, and if not saved, sink he must. And such is the position of every unsaved soul in this life—it is simply a question of time; he is sinking down into eternal perdition.
We do not say a man feels he is lost and therefore knows it, but because he knows it he feels it. The word of God discovers to us our condition. "The Son of Man is come to seek and to save that which was lost." (Luke 19:1010For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost. (Luke 19:10).) The Lord speaks of the sinner under the figures of a lost sheep, a lost piece of silver, and a lost son. (Luke 15) And when we believe God we feel the truth of His word.
The sheep strays away and is lost because it is its nature to wander. Here is the senselessness of the sinner. Now by nature "all we like sheep have gone astray" (Isa. 53:66All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. (Isaiah 53:6)); we are senseless even if miserable, we are senseless even if perishing, for by nature we do not know how to return: "the way of peace have they not known." (Rom. 3:1717And the way of peace have they not known: (Romans 3:17).)
The lost piece of silver shows to us the insensibility of the sinner. Silver does not feel; it is precious to the person who has lost it, but if a piece roll out of the hand of its owner and become lost, it is not in the nature of silver to feel. Man is by nature insensible to God, and to his own state in relation to God. Were it not that we are precious to God, we should remain lost forever.
The history of the lost son opens a deeper evil still. It is not here the senselessness of the sinner in wandering from God and from blessing, or the insensibility of the sinner to his lost state, but the determined wicked will of the sinner to get away from God in order to find pleasure in sin. He "took his journey into a far country"; yes, thither we all have taken our journey, and with the deep, determined will to be out of God's presence.
Neither the sheep, the piece of silver, nor the prodigal were partly lost; they were altogether lost. The Lord Jesus did not come to seek and to save that which was nearly lost, but that which was wholly lost. The drowning man does not say to his saviours in the lifeboat, “I am not quite lost yet, so leave me to try my best," but gratefully accepts the salvation they bring him. The sinner who knows he is lost longs to be saved. He is the one gratefully to receive God's salvation.