HOW happy it is to know truly by Spirit-wrought experience, the blessedness of being fully and forever reconciled to God in Christ! It is then that self is put into its proper place—helpless, hopeless, undone self! And it is then that Christ takes His proper place as our All in All. Then indeed we have perfect peace, for “He is our peace.” (Eph. 2:1414For he is our peace, who hath made both one, and hath broken down the middle wall of partition between us; (Ephesians 2:14)). The condemning burden of our sins no longer oppresses us, for we know that “we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace.” (Eph. 1:77In whom we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of his grace; (Ephesians 1:7)). Then we know our vileness is fully met, for “the blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin” (1 John 1:77But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin. (1 John 1:7)); and His beauty our glory, for “He of God is made unto us.... righteousness.” (1 Cor. 1:3030But of him are ye in Christ Jesus, who of God is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption: (1 Corinthians 1:30)). Oh, what blessedness is thus ours in Christ!
We are “confident of this very thing, that He which hath begun a good work in us will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.” (Phi. 1:6). And then, when He shall conic to receive us unto Himself, what unspeakable blessedness shall we enjoy through all eternity! To Him alone the praise!
But not always was I able to speak thus. Through long months and years I longed, oh, how I longed, to be in possession of such assurance! As I look back upon it, he sad—yes, I may almost say, how unnecessarily sad—has been my spiritual history! And how wondrously good and gracious has He been, who, through long years of doubt and distance, bore with me, and at last enabled me fully to trust Himself. I set forth the record of the Lord’s dealings with me, to the glory of His name, and for the help of those who may be in the same position that I was once in.
And what was that position? It found expression in that verse of Newton’s, which was constantly on my lips—
“’Tis a point I long to know,
Oft it causeth anxious thought—
Do I love the Lord or no?
Am I His or am I not?”
There were times, indeed, when, for a little while, I seemed to get upon the mountain top, and breathe the bracing air; but anon the valley depths engulfed me, and peace and assurance both were far from me. My feelings ruled and decided my condition. Wretched rule to go by! as variable and as fitful as the wind.
I had been piously brought up. From my earliest days I had been accustomed to listen to the preaching of the word, and to mingle with the congregation of God’s people. I became what is called “a member of the church” when very young, and though I lapsed from this membership, my name was soon written on the roll of another congregation. How terrible it is to contemplate how many are thus enrolled without true faith in Christ, and who are but strangers to the salvation He gives I went on to be a teacher in the Sunday school, a mission worker, and indeed I became a preacher of God’s gospel. How could I do such work? I often wonder now. Yet I knew the theology of the plan of salvation, and something of the philosophy of it too. And I held to that plan most strenuously, condemning all self-effort, enforcing the necessity of faith in Christ, and urging His all-sufficiency for our salvation; and I believed it—in a way. But my belief was not such as simply appropriated and rested in all Christ was, and all He had done. I had zeal for God, but I had not peace with God. I was a stranger to full satisfaction of soul, for I was looking into self for it, and refusing to find it only in Christ.
I now reached another and most important epoch of my life. I had been preaching from time to time in various places, and being somewhat fluent and fervid, I was pressed to enter the ministry, and thus become a regularly ordained preacher of the word. I had been for some years debating this question, and looked at it in all kinds of ways. At first I was greatly disinclined to take the step, but eventually thought that my refusal to go forward might be refusing to enter the very path in which I might find the peace I so longed for.
During my college course I was noted for evangelistic zeal, and was constantly engaged in gospel work. And in this respect I was no hypocrite; I wanted others to be saved; and yet it was only at times, and then only with hesitation, that I could say I was saved myself.
At last I found myself the pastor of a congregation, in a large and busy town, amongst a numerous working-class population. How I worked! What restless activity! What endless schemes for doing good! But where were the peace and power I hoped for? Ay, where? What a disappointment it was! What an intolerable burden did it come to be! I heard men and women all around me bearing earnest and praiseful testimony to the full assurance of faith in Christ, which God had given them; I could only listen in sad and yearning silence. And I prayed, oh! with what agony I prayed!
Having been some time in this condition, I remember being introduced to a poor fellow far gone in consumption. A few months later a sister of his came to me and asked me if I remembered meeting him, telling me he had come home to die, and that he was without God and without hope, yea, even filled with contempt of the gospel, and of the salvation therein revealed. She asked me to go and speak to him, at the same time warning me that he might order me out of the house, and entreating me not to let him know she had requested me to come.
I went, and found him very weak, and open to receive sympathy. I talked with him for awhile about his body, and then I began about his soul. He would scarcely hear me. The reference to eternal things moved him to pour out strong complaints of the unchristian character and conduct of many professing Christians whom he knew. He grew excited, and I thought it best to close our interview. I turned to Rev. 22:1717And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely. (Revelation 22:17), and especially emphasized the clause, “Whosoever will, let him come.” I asked him, “Do you wish to be saved?”
He replied, “I can’t say I do.”
“There is only one thing I can do for you,” I said; “will you let me do it?”
He asked, “What is it?”
“Go down on my knees, and pray God to show you yourself as a poor, lost sinner needing salvation, and to make you willing to be saved,” I replied.
“You can do it if you like,” he answered.
“Then I like,” said I, and I knelt down and prayed, and left him without further remark.
That was on a Tuesday. I went to him on the following Friday, and he received me cordially. I read to him part of Rom. 3, and prayed again, and left him. The next morning, his sister came to my apartments about nine o’clock. Her heart was so full she could not speak, but I understood that she wished me to accompany her to the sick chamber. I found her brother in bed, and completely off his mental balance, wandering wildly in his talk. But he clearly showed conviction of sin, and seemed perfectly sensible to all I said about his soul’s condition. I remember one thing he asked me, “Do you believe in science?”
I answered, “Yes, I believe in science, in its own sphere, but science can do nothing for you now.”
“I have been a bit scientific,” he replied, “but I have made a great mistake.”
After talking a little while, and urging 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), especially the latter part— “All 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,” I prayed at his bedside, and left, ay, left, saying to myself—
“’Tis a point I long to know,
Oft it causeth anxious thought—
Do I love the Lord or no?
Am I His or am I not?”
I was coming to a crisis as to my own condition of soul. Seeking the salvation of others, seeking it faithfully, up to my light, whilst not fully assured of my own; it was becoming more and more intolerable, and causing me daily greater anguish. I went down that same evening, and a cold December evening it was, to the pier of our town, and there, no one being present, pleaded with God for a full hour, entreating Him to lead me into the full and clear assurance of faith. And my prayer was heard.
That night, at half-past nine, the sister of the sick man came to a concert where I was presiding—for concerts and entertainments formed one of my schemes for advancing the Lord’s cause; oh the folly of it!—and called me to come quickly to see her sick brother. If he was off his mental balance in the morning, he was now raving mad, crying out with a strength of voice truly astounding, and with an agony truly terrible, under the awful sense of his lost and undone state. As I stood in the room alone with him, I never more truly cried to God for help. I had to deal with a soul in the agony of conviction, wanting peace, peace to which I myself was still a stranger. I felt shut up to one scripture, one truth, one testimony, “The Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.” It was doubtless the Lord’s way of bringing this truth home to my own soul. At last the dying man fell back exhausted.
I remained in the house till four o’clock the next morning, which was the Lord’s Day, and then went home. No truth was ever borne in upon my heart with greater force than was that contained in the last clause of 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) by the strong emphasis of the terrible circumstances of that night.
On the occasion of my next visit, as I entered the sick man’s room, it was evident that he had undergone a great change. He received me with a smile of welcome, and said, “Ah, sir, I couldn’t understand you harping on that one text, The Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all,’ but I see it now: He has made an end of sin, and I just believe it.” In words such as these he made it clear that he had, by simple faith, received God’s record of His Son, and was rejoicing in God’s salvation; and, as he thus spake, at that very moment I received it too, and we rejoiced together. Blessed, simple gospel truth! what peace and joy it brought to the dying man and to the pastor.
Next morning at six o’clock, the young man called his friends around him. The end was near. His sister wanted to fetch me, but he stopped her, saying, “Do not trouble him. Tell him it is all right. Thank him for me.” At nine o’clock he passed away.
To God be all the praise. He had done great things for me as well as for him who was gone. Since then there has been conflict, ay, and failure, but the assurance remains, for it does not depend on self at all:—
“On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.”
My history is finished. It tells how the Lord brought me to full assurance. But I should not be telling the truth if I did not own that, from the day the Lord gave me peace and assurance, I cast aside as worse than folly all my old schemes of concerts, religious entertainments, and the like, carried on professedly to aid the cause of Christ, but really, all of them, worldly hindrances to true godliness. Some of my old friends blame me for the narrow views I now entertain, but God’s cause never has been, and never will be advanced by worldliness, and, indeed, His cause has no greater damage done to it than by professedly Christian workers bringing in the world’s devices to help on the glory of Christ.
Oh, seeker of salvation, let me lovingly and solemnly urge you to believe this precious truth, and the same assurance will be yours: “The Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.”
M. S.