Chester Races; or, How I Was Converted.

 •  10 min. read  •  grade level: 6
I WAS passionately fond of horse-racing. Of all places, I thought a racecourse the most enjoyable. The bustle and excitement of the crowd, the betting-ring, the saddling paddock, with the horses led round and round waiting to be saddled, each having a pedigree carefully recorded in the “stud book," and each with a history of its own, giving the age, performances, the number of races it ran, and won, or was defeated in, the places it ran at, and the weights it carried. These were matters in which I took the deepest interest, and so for some years, contrary to the advice and earnest entreaties of two loving brothers, who were older than I,—whose eyes the Lord had opened to the worthlessness of these things, and who had been converted some years before, and had over and over again put before me the importance of eternity and the salvation of my immortal soul,—I went to every race meeting in England and Ireland that I could possibly get to.
At last, in May 1875, coming off the Chester Racecourse, I saw, in the midst of thousands of people, a man holding up a placard, on which was written—
“YOUR RACE IS RUN;
PREPARE TO MEET THY GOD.'
Yes, in the midst of thousands of people returning from the races, there stood a poor man holding up above their heads these solemn words, printed in large letters that all might see, and trying to impress upon them, thoughtless and indifferent as they may have been at the time, the terrible reality that they would have to meet God. The words caught my eyes, and there and then, for the first time in my life, I realized the fact that sooner or later I should have to meet God.
Pleasure-seeker as I was at the time, the words went home to my conscience, and awakened me to a sense of my condition before God as a sinner. But it soon passed off. The impression, solemn as it was, soon wore away; and joining my boon companions in the town, God was again shut out from my thoughts, and I returned by rail to where I then lived.
Next day, however, the impressions of the previous day returned. The appalling words came vividly before me; the announcement made to me by the Spirit of God was not to be so readily disposed of; and so every day for about a month, with increasing terribleness, came the same dreaded fact, that I must some day meet God. I was really miserable. It haunted me night and day; I could not get rid of it. To meet God I was totally unfit. The sins of my whole life had to be accounted for. I had been living for the world and its pleasures. Instead of living for God, I had lived for myself.
What was I to do? My case seemed really hopeless. Who was I to go to? There were Christians in the neighborhood who could have told me, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved," but I did not know them. The people of God were not the ones I preferred to associate with; but now the Spirit of God had begun His work, I would gladly have sought a Christian, to whom I might tell my case, and ask his advice; but God saw differently, and kept me in His own hands, not choosing to employ a human instrument just yet.
I was truly miserable. At times the terrible feeling wore away, but only to return with increased awe and terror. When I thought of meeting God, it was but to remember that He was holy, that He would by no means clear the guilty, which I assuredly was, having lived without God and without Christ all my life.
About two months before seeing the placard at Chester, I received by post a little book. Opening it, and finding that it was a gospel magazine, I threw it on a bookshelf, where it remained, until, in my distress, I took it up to try and find a word of comfort for my sin-stricken conscience; and in this little incident I can now trace God's tender dealings with me. It was sent me by my brother, who had often spoken to me of the things of God. Oh I how I longed to be near him then, that he might speak to me once more. I would not treat with scorn and contempt then, as I had often done before, the things relating to my eternal salvation. I knew both my brothers had found the Saviour, and I longed to be able to say that I had found Him too, for God had brought me to see myself as a lost, ruined, hell-deserving sinner, and as such needing a Saviour.
Oh! miserable condition that I was in. It was quite clear that meet God I must; I knew not how soon; but I could only see my own total unfitness to meet Him. How I longed to be assured there was salvation for even me; that Christ's blood could save me; that the blessed Lord Jesus was then saying, “Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out." How gladly I would have come had I heard these precious words! But no; there was no one to speak to; but God was speaking to me. The little book contained a short narrative, " The Chasm and the Bridge," with a verse of Scripture from the first Epistle of Peter, 3rd chapter and 18th verse, " For Christ also hath once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God.”
Blessed words indeed they are, but they seemed not to give me any relief, so filled was I with my own wretchedness and misery. Mentally and aloud I repeated them, without being able to grasp their blessed meaning.
Towards the end of the month I went to stay a few days with one of my brothers, and hearing that he was to preach on the Sunday evening, I asked if I might go and hear him,—a very unexpected request, and one that was gladly complied with. Instead of accepting God's offer of salvation, instead of receiving with joy and thankfulness the Saviour provided for sinners, I left the little chapel, if possible, more miserable than ever. It seemed as if there was to be no mercy for me. Still I had got one step. I read in God's own word, "Christ once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God." Blessed words! I read them, and read them, and read them again. I repeated them, and repeated them, again and again.
As I went through the fields, as I went along the lanes, I repeated the wondrous words, " Christ once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God." Again and again I repeated the amazing words. Indoors and out of doors they came to my lips. Why could I not close with God's offer of mercy? Why did I not at once accept the salvation of God? In holy contrast to tie unwelcome words, "Prepare to meet thy God," came that blessed verse in the first Epistle of Peter.
After about a month of intense fear, when my anguish had reached its highest point, when almost filled with despair, when I had nearly given way to the fear that there was no salvation for me, when I had seen myself as a lost, ruined, hell-deserving sinner, without God and without hope in the world, then, on the road side, on Sunday evening the 6th June 1875, about a mile from where I lived, the blessed Lord Jesus Christ spoke to my heart and conscience, telling me that He once "suffered for sins," He "the just "for me" the unjust," quieting every fear and dispelling every doubt, enabling me to say with absolute certainty, that my sins were forgiven through His precious blood, which cleanseth from all sin.
Oh what words! Flow unspeakably blessed! What joy, what peace, they brought to the sin burdened conscience when applied by the Holy Ghost! “CHRIST ONCE SUFFERED FOR SINS, THE JUST FOR THE UNJUST, THAT HE MIGHT BRING US TO GOD." Had I not often read them before? Yes; but until that moment I had never learned their real value.
“Praise the Saviour,
Magnify the sinner's friend!”
Coming of the racecourse (when to have met God would have been banishment from His presence for ever), God spoke to me by that placard. Now, on the road side, He spoke to me by His Son, and enabled me to receive with unquestioning confidence a Father's love. The one I most dreaded to meet I was actually brought to, in all the preciousness and in all the value of the work of Christ on the cross.
To Him be all the praise! Not only were my sins forgiven through the work of the Lord Jesus Christ, but I was brought to God, and brought to Him by His own beloved Son. Well do I remember that Sunday evening, when the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, was made known to me. By nature my distance from God was immeasurable; now I was brought to Him; yea, by His own beloved Son.
But I must run home and write to the loved brother just come to live in North Wales, who sent me the little gospel book. I knew it would delight him to hear of God's grace and goodness to me; to hear that his Saviour was my Saviour too. It was about 8:30 P.M., and the mail cart passed at 9 o'clock. There was just time to write him a line, which was received, as you may suppose, with heartfelt praise and thankfulness to God for His wondrous love.
Reader, this is how I was converted this is how God saved my soul. How is it with you? Have you been awakened to a sense of your sins? Have you discovered that to meet God in your sins will be to spend eternity in hell? Think of it. Has the “still small voice 's reached your conscience, reminding you of God's claims upon you? Has God's love no attraction for you? Oh, yes. Surely you will no longer turn away from His love. Will you? He cares for you, and watches over you, and wants you now to come to Him and be saved. He says in His word, "Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out." Come, then, with this one plea, that you are a sinner, and Christ came to save sinners. Look at 1St Timothy 1:15. Read it, “This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." God's word says so; says it is a faithful saying, worthy of all acceptation too. Then, surely, it is worth your acceptance. God's salvation is without money and without price. It is a gift; “The gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord;” "not of works, lest any man should boast."
H. M. S.