There are, we doubt not, moments of deeply solemn and special importance in the history of every child of Adam, when the voice of God is distinctly heard speaking to the soul, and when the conscience, suddenly aroused to a sense of guilt, becomes troubled and anxious in the prospect of a never-ending eternity. The absolute uncertainty of life, and the equally sure and terrible certainty of death also force themselves at such seasons upon the mind, filling it with darkness and fear, and the dread reality of a day of judgment, when the secrets of all human hearts shall be manifested in the searching light of “that great white throne,” and in His holy presence, before “whose face the earth and the heaven will flee away, and there be found no place for them” (Rev. 20:11).
It is because we feel persuaded that you, clear reader, have doubtless had such thoughts at times, but let them slip, that we are anxious to address a friendly, and yet most solemn word of warning to you, ere this, the day of God’s sovereign grace and mercy, closes, and the master of the house rises up and shuts to the door. You know, if you have read your Bible, that then it will be too late to think seriously of these things, and that then He who now is longing to save your precious soul will only “laugh at your calamity, and mock when your fear cometh.” And why? His own words will then be, “Because I have called, and ye refused, I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded.... Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but shall not find me.”
What solemn words are these! and, as we think of them, we are compelled to be plain and honest with you, and to ask every reader of this paper the self-same question that Adam had to answer, when hiding from the presence of the Lord amongst the trees of the garden, “Where art thou?”
Is it not true that over and over again you have been convicted of sin by the still small voice of conscience, but you have passed it by as of no moment, and you are still unconverted, unsaved, Christless, “having no hope and without God, in the world.” God Himself has often spoken to you, it may be by the terrors of hell and a coming judgment, it may be through the multitude of your sins, or perchance by the solemn admonitions and warnings of His Word, revealing to your heart the hollowness and vanity of this present evil world, and pointing you, as He ever does, to the cross of His own beloved Son, where “He who knew no sin was made sin for us.”
Or, peradventure, He may have laid His hand upon you in sickness, bringing you down to the very gates of death, and the borders of the grave; yet, though He has chosen some, or all of these means of drawing your soul to Himself, you have up to this moment still refused His grace, despised His love, rejected His Christ, and resolved to have the world as your portion here, and the flames of hell as your portion hereafter.
But let us pause a minute, for this, perhaps, may not be exactly your present condition. You may be what men would call a very religious person, or your language like that of King Agrippa, “Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian!” As a child you remember that you attended a Sunday school, but now you, who were once a scholar, have become a teacher. You were always outwardly moral and upright in your conduct, but latterly you have felt that you ought to be more religious, so you now pray night and morning, read your Bible regularly, attend a place of worship as often as you can, have been baptized, and, it may be, admitted as a communicant to the Lord’s supper; all these things were necessary to keep up appearances, and to maintain your character before men, for you wanted people to think you a Christian, and you were “almost persuaded” to be one.
This has answered all very well for a time; but, let us ask you, what will its value be when the solemn summons is heard coming straight from eternity, “Thou fool! this night thy soul shall be required of thee!” You don’t like to think of this, for it makes you feel uneasy, restless, and disquieted, because in your heart you really know that your sins are not yet forgiven, you have no peace with God, the load of guilt is still unremoved; and why? Because you have not yet simply come to Jesus, you are not quite satisfied with Christ, you are only “almost” instead of quite, persuaded that His most precious blood has made a full atonement for your sins, and that upon the ground of that finished work He has forever made peace with God. The world and its attractions, sin and its pleasures, Satan and his wiles, are all too much for you, and, like Felix, you have resolved at a more “convenient season” to give your heart to Christ.
Is it so with you, dear reader? Well, God tells you that “there is but one step betwixt you and death,” and after death the judgment.
The Lord Himself grant that you may be warned in time by the solemn fate of King Agrippa. Let us look at it! (Acts 26)
Everything that the natural heart could covet or desire had he got, wealth, ease, luxury, position, and the power that would gratify the loftiest ambition, for his cup of earthly pleasure was filled even to the brim, and to all this were added the regal splendor and majesty of a throne.
But mark the striking contrast here presented.
There sat the king, in all the pride of life, surrounded by those who were ready to gratify his smallest whim, and with everything at his command, but withal a sin-stained, lost, and ruined man, a captive in the chains of Satan, and there stood Paul, brought, ‘tis true, from his lonely cell to receive sentence from the lips of such an one, with nothing but his chain, as far as this world was concerned, the prisoner of man, but also of Jesus Christ, for whose sake he had suffered the loss of all things, and did count them but dung and dross that he might win Christ, and be found in Him. Yes, what were all the pomp and glitter of that eastern court to that faithful servant of God, or in comparison to the One that filled his heart? it was as nothing to him, yea, less than nothing, for the Christ of God was his, and he was Christ’s, and Christ is God’s. It was indeed a contrast, and brings to mind those ever-memorable words of the blessed Lord Jesus, “What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul, or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?”
And what a sermon! It is of Jesus that Paul speaks, the lowly Jesus, the despised and rejected Jesus, “the man Christ Jesus, who gave Himself a ransom for all,” the sinner’s perfect substitute, Son of Man, but also Son of God, blessed for evermore! Such was the person that Paul, the prisoner, presented for the king’s acceptance, and His precious death, His glorious resurrection and ascension, these were the mighty themes on which the apostle discoursed with all the solemn earnestness and deep reality which such wondrous truths must of necessity call forth.
It was really just what suited Agrippa’s case, for, one by one, in all their telling force and power, he spoke of deliverance from the power of sin, of Satan, and the world, the bringing of souls from darkness into light, forgiveness of sins through a Saviour’s precious blood, and a glorious inheritance among them that are sanctified. And what effect did it produce upon Agrippa’s sin-stained heart? Was it God’s glad tidings to him, and did his soul bow down before the divines reality and glorious magnificence of sovereign grace and the precious truth of an accomplished salvation, or did he despise the offered mercy and thus incur the so much sorer punishment by treading underfoot the Son of God, and counting the blood of the covenant an unholy thing? Alas, alas! the golden opportunity had fled, he listened to the subtle voice of the tempter, and, though conscious of the solemn truth of all that Paul had brought before him, it did not touch that cold, hard heart, except to make it tremble, for the love of the world was still there, his lusts and passions still there, and Satan’s hand was binding him by a stronger chain than ever to those chariot wheels which would surely carry him down the “broad road that leadeth to destruction.”
He had seen, as it were, all the glories of heaven unfolded before him; he had reached the very threshold, and gazed in upon that countless ransomed host; his ears had listened to the music of those golden harps, and caught the echo of that glorious, never-ending song, but he was only almost persuaded to be a Christian, and so the tempter triumphed, and while the publicans and harlots were entering that scene of light, and life, and rest by their thousands, the awful darkness of eternal woe was fast closing in upon his own soul.
What a terrible picture! Can you bear the thought of it, beloved reader? How is it with you? Can you any longer barter your soul’s salvation for the paltry pleasures of this world, or remain another instant only “almost persuaded” to decide for Christ? How much longer will you halt between two opinions? If the Lord Jesus has forever “put away sin by the sacrifice of himself,” and if His precious blood be your only hope, as it must be, why not rest satisfied with what has satisfied God, and believe the record of His own word, “If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and believe in thine heart that God has raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.” The words of Israel’s God remain unaltered to this day in all their living force and power. “When I see the blood I will pass over you, and the blood shall be to you for a token.” That precious blood (without shedding of which there was no remission) has indeed been shed, and God has set forth His own Christ “as a propitiation (or mercy seat) through faith in his blood,” and, in virtue of this, there is full forgiveness of sins for every one that believeth.
What then are you waiting for? “Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.”
Is it not enough for you that the Son of God has died to set you free, and that through His cross He has forever removed out of the way everything that was against you, and contrary to you? Cannot you trust the One whose love was stronger than death, over whose soul in that dark and solemn hour rolled all the waves and billows of divine judgment, and who, in order to pluck you “as a brand out of the fire,” endured what you can never know or fathom, the terrible realities, of that moment when even He had to say, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”
But He who thus went down into death itself was there for you, and, blessed be God, Satan’s power was then crushed forever, as it is written “that through death he might destroy him that had the power of death, that is the Devil, and deriver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage.” His own words now are, “I am he that liveth and was dead, and behold, I am alive for evermore, amen, and have the keys of hell and death!” “When he had by himself purged our sins (and not till then) he sat down on the right hand of the majesty on high,” and this was the divine proof that the work was completely done, that He had made a full end of sin, and in His own royal person not only met, but satisfied all and every righteous claim that God could have against the sinner.
Yes, thank God, it is indeed a finished work! the cup of wrath has been drunk to the very dregs, that you might have another cup, one, truly, that you did not deserve, but one that His own matchless grace now freely offers you, even an overflowing cup that He now bids you drink, and in this cup are pardon full and free, mercy rich and boundless, forgiveness of sins, peace, justification, redemption, and eternal life, a sevenfold draft of heavenly blessing, and all yours through simple faith in Him.
‘Tis boundless love indeed! Are you satisfied with it, or only “almost persuaded” to drink of it? He Himself beseeches you to drink of that lifegiving stream, and, as surely as you do, so surely will you find His blessed words are true.
“Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst, but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” No longer then will you be only “almost persuaded to be a Christian,” but, having the Christ of God as your everlasting portion, you will be able to enter into the full meaning of Paul’s answer to Agrippa, “I would to God, that not only thou, but also all that hear me this day, were both almost and altogether such as I am, except these bonds.”
S. T.