At the close of a gospel service where the power of God had been felt in no small degree, I entered into conversation with a young man of a very refined and gentlemanly appearance.
Quite a number had been visibly affected, and not a few had apparently decided to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ in their hearts, and to confess Him with their lips.
Noticing that this young man lingered as if loath to leave a spot where the Spirit of God was producing such blessed results, I inquired how matters stood with him. He was not saved—he owned it frankly. Did he not realize his danger? O, yes. He owned that it was all true: that he needed a Savior, that he might have that Savior on the spot: that he need not leave the hall without Him—all this he readily admitted.
"Then will you not trust Him tonight, before you leave this place?" I asked.
"No, thank you, not tonight," he replied, and that in the most polite and courteous manner.
"But why not? There is no reason on God's side why you should not be saved. The atoning work has been finished on the cross, and the Lord Jesus Christ is a Savior both able and willing to save you now, straight away. Besides, there is danger in delay; you don't know what a day may bring forth; you may not have another chance;" and so I kept urging him to decision, there and then.
"No, thank you, not tonight. Please do not ask me to decide this tonight. I don't want to be unkind or offensive; I quite appreciate your kindness; I hope you understand me, it is from no motive of resentment, but please do not ask me to decide tonight;" and so he went on.
It was a strange case, and not knowing what next to say, I ventured, "Isn't your mother saved?”
With this, the dear man fairly broke down, and commenced sobbing like a child.
"No," he gasped out, "mother's not saved—father is. O, do pray for mother; pray for me too.”
Back of all this there lay a history which I did not feel justified in reviving, but there was a touch of genuine human feeling which could not fail to strike a chord of sympathy.
"Well," I said, "the Lord knows all about that, and if you were only saved yourself, you would be a help to your mother. But tell me, why do you not want to decide tonight?”
By this time the hour was advancing, and having left the hall, we were walking down the street together.
"I once made a profession," he said, "about two years ago. It lasted for a little while, but I went back completely, and I don't want to repeat this again.”
"I understand that," said I, "and I give you credit for a perfectly right and just feeling. You do not want to bring dishonor upon the Lord, and discredit upon the gospel—isn't that so?”
"Yes," said he, "if I were to say I was saved, nobody would believe me.”
"What made you think you were saved two years ago?" I asked.
"I had been attending some revival meetings, and felt very happy.”
"Was that all? Supposing I had met you two years ago, and asked you upon what your hope of heaven rested, what would you have replied?”
"O, I felt very happy. I was sure I was all right.”
"But, my dear fellow, what scripture had you to base your faith on?”
"O, I hadn't any scripture particularly," said he.
"Then I understand it all now," said I; "you were trusting in your feelings; these were merely passing emotions. In order to satisfy the demands of your own conscience in view of judgment to come, and in order to silence the attacks of Satan, the great adversary of your soul, you must have the Word of God to rest on. One line of that blessed, living Word of God will silence Satan, and produce a peace and rest of soul which all the happy feelings in the world could never give, and, thank God, which all the dismal feelings could never rob you of. I can tell you one verse—there are multitudes, but this one will suffice for the moment—which can give you assurance, if you just simply believe it as God's own announcement to yourself.”
The hour was late, and my young friend, hurriedly taking his watch from his pocket, said, "I can't wait, I have only just time to catch the last train. Where is the verse?”
As he was running down the street, I called after him, "Acts ten, forty-three.”
From the distance he replied,
"Acts ten, forty-three—thank you so much.”
We have never met again, and in all probability, shall never do so until we meet around the Lamb. There was such a hearty ring about "Acts ten, forty-three—thank you so much," that I cannot doubt, if I had been able to look in upon that young man before he turned in for the night, I should have found him reading attentively, "To Him give all the prophets witness, that through His name whosoever believeth in Him shall receive remission of sins.”
And now, reader, will you not do the same?
Will not this assurance of forgiveness produce happy feelings? Certainly it will. The one who, with humble faith, and calm serenity, can add his "Amen" to those blessed words put into his lips by the Spirit of God, "In whom we have redemption through His (Christ's) blood, the forgiveness of sins," can open his mouth in praise "giving thanks unto the Father" (Col. 1:12-1412Giving thanks unto the Father, which hath made us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light: 13Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son: 14In whom we have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins: (Colossians 1:12‑14)).
Then no longer trust in your feelings, but trust in God's Word.