God made the death of a much-loved friend instrumental in awakening the conscience of the writer to godly and earnest concern.
For the first time in his life he had solemnly proposed to himself the vital question— “What must I do to be saved!” The soul, thoroughly in earnest, at once commenced doing. Eternal life, peace of mind, and present forgiveness of sins were believed to depend upon much being felt, much realized; and for this purpose, viz., that convictions of sin might be deepened, that the anxiety of his soul might be increased, he cried, night and day, “Lord, show me my sin, my vileness, my ruin. O Lord, make me feel that I’m a sinner, needing and deserving hell! Lord, save me!” It was a solemn time. Friend after friend pointed him to the Lamb of God—who was made an offering for sin-who made peace through the blood of His cross—and, founded upon His finished work, from the throne of God in glory, presses upon every soul the message of reconciliation, “Be ye reconciled.” It was all in vain. His distress increased with the fervor and urgency of his prayers.
Weeks and months rolled on, and found him still a stranger to the peace which passeth all understanding. And no wonder, for vainly imagining that he had to make his peace with God, and that the ground of that peace must be laid in the shedding of many tears, agonizing emotions, stirring and deep conviction of sin, as one might expect, he was laboring at the task with all the fervor and resolute determination of one on whose doing depended eternal life and peace with God.
“God will have mercy upon me,” he said to a friend on one occasion, “God will save me, but not now.” “I don’t feel enough, I don’t half realize my condition as a guilty sinner. I must cherish my convictions, I must feel more. I must grieve over my sins more, I must weep more.” And again he gave himself to the sad, sad task of propitiating God. Alas how vain. The peace of a sinner in the presence of the Holy God has absolutely nothing to do with his prayers, tears, and soul troubles. The foundation of an immediate and perfect forgiveness of sins—the clearance of all guilt—the removal of all iniquity—has not the slightest reference as to his moral condition. He may be an awakened sinner, feeling the burden of his guilt, groaning under the weight of his sins; or he may still be, what is worse, yet unconcerned and unconverted.
The sinner is “made nigh to God,” not by his tears of repentance—his bitter sorrowings for sin—but by the “BLOOD OF CHRIST.” The peace of a sinner is not founded upon his feelings—be they good or bad, or upon his faith—be it weak or strong, or upon his experiences or realizations. No, no. The blood of the cross has made peace—the blood alone—the finished work of Christ, the dying, dead, buried, risen, and glorified Son of God, has obtained redemption—for whom? For sinners—for poor lost, hell-worthy sinners, be they good or bad, whether feeling or “past feeling.” A lifted-up Christ is God’s remedy for sinners; the cross His answer to the ruin, sin, and guilt of man. Has my reader believed in Christ Has he got eternal life in the Son of God? Have you, dear reader, yet gazed upon Christ in glory I Have your eyes been riveted upon His side, His hands, His feet? “Why look there?” you say. Why? Because that once wounded Man is in glory. He fills the throne of God. The Son of Man lifted up on the cross—the atoning victim for sin—has accomplished His work. He has made an end of sin. The victim’s blood has been shed—His life laid down—justice thereby satisfied, and the throne of God divinely vindicated. “But,” you say, “it was against God I had sinned, against Him I had transgressed—is He satisfied! —is He well pleased?” Yes, sinner, He is, and the proof is the empty grave-the tenantless tomb. The Son of God has been raised from the tomb, by the glory and power of God, and now fills the highest point in the universe—the throne of God.
This truth, which, when believed, carries salvation with it, was put, simply and earnestly, before G—F— He was pressed with that Scripture, that all his righteousness were as filthy rags, i.e., human goodness of any kind; that divine righteousness, perfect peace, instant salvation, and
eternal life, were each, alone, and entirely grounded upon Christ in death and resurrection; that no other foundation can man lay than that is laid, even Jesus Christ, the Lord; that any foundation to build for eternity, which had even a grain of human composition in it, would prove a foundation—a standing—weaker than the sinking sea-shore sand; that salvation was in NONE OTHER. “I see it,” said the young man, “I see it now—I’m saved by the blood of the Lamb—I’m saved by the blood of Jesus—Hallelujah to His name!” Years have rolled on, and yet that happy one is happy still, that rejoicing one is rejoicing still. Why? Because the blood of Christ is ever the same. Why Because the throne of God is still filled by the risen Christ. Why? Because, a full salvation is his portion, a full and perfect salvation enjoyed even now. Why? Because this One who died is coming—yes, coming—to his everlasting joy—to his eternal blessing-to take him to his Father’s home—to the rest of heaven. Yes, Jesus is coming. “How soon?” do you ask “quickly,” is the divine answer. And when He comes, loud, long, and eternal shall be the song resounding from every blood-washed soul— “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing!” Amen and Amen.
F.