A gentleman and his wife were traveling in a strongly Catholic country. They had to stop for a few hours at an inn in a small wayside village. Not far from the inn the lady observed an old woman sitting at her cottage door weeping bitterly. She went to her and asked what was the matter. The poor creature replied that she had been unable that morning, from feebleness of body, to join in a procession to a town a few miles away, a pilgrimage having for its object prayers and offerings to the Virgin Mary for the salvation of souls. Therefore she would have to undergo a still longer period of torment in purgatory before her sins could be forgiven.
The lady sat down at the old woman's side. She endeavored to show her, as best she could, that no works or prayers of her own nor the intercession of the Virgin could deliver her from judgment. She told her plainly that only one thing could save her—the work which the Lord Jesus Christ accomplished when He died upon the cross. His precious blood alone was sufficient to wash away the sins of all who believe on Him. "Through this man [Jesus] is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins." Acts 13:3838Be it known unto you therefore, men and brethren, that through this man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins: (Acts 13:38).
The lady found it very sweet to tell a poor soul who thought she was slipping down into purgatory about Jesus the Savior. She had scarcely ever heard of Him, much less of a salvation to be had without laboring and working. Her astonishment was still greater when the lady called her husband and asked him to pray direct to that Savior that this distressed soul might understand what His free grace could do for her. After more talk, they had to drive on; but the lady's first care on arriving home was to send a Bible to this thirsty soul.
Two years passed away, and she again drove through the village. She got out of the conveyance and went straight to the little cottage. It was locked up, and seemed to be no longer inhabited. As she turned away, wondering if death had carried off her old acquaintance, she met two young men. Seeing her look inquiringly, they asked her if she were seeking any one, adding that the cottage was now empty. Their mother, who had occupied it, had only recently died.
"Are you the lady who sent her the Bible?" asked one of the sons. "Yes," she replied.
"Oh," said they, "how often we have longed to see you, that we might tell you of the good that Book did our mother. Before you sent it she was one of the most miserable women in the place; but when once she had it, she used to spend her whole day reading it. She was as happy as possible, and she died just like that.”
More than this the lady could not learn, but she felt it was enough. Only the knowledge that our sins are put away and that we are made fit by Christ's work to dwell in the presence of God forever in heaven, can give peace and happiness in the hour of death.
You may say you are not ignorant like this poor Roman Catholic. You would not think of trusting to any religious processions or ritualistic ceremonies for the salvation of your soul. But are you sure that you are not relying instead on some work of goodness of your own as a ground for "boldness in the day of judgment?" Remember that God says in His Word that "all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags." Isa. 64:66But we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags; and we all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away. (Isaiah 64:6). "There is none that doeth good, no, not one." Rom. 3:1212They are all gone out of the way, they are together become unprofitable; there is none that doeth good, no, not one. (Romans 3:12).
If thus convicted before God, may you turn to Him, and own yourself as quite incapable of doing good. Cast yourself, just as you are—a poor, lost sinner—on the grace of God. He gave His only begotten Son to die on the cross for our sins, and there to bear the full penalty which we deserved because of them.
"For sooner all the hills shall flee,
And hide themselves beneath the sea—
The ocean, starting from its bed,
Rise o'er the snow-capped mountain's head—
The sun, bedimmed of all its light,
Become the source of endless night:
And ruin spread from pole to pole,
Than JESUS fail a TRUSTING soul.”