“I WRITE unto you, little children, because your sins are forgiven you for His Name’s sake.” The apostle John was an old man when he wrote these words. In his youth he had followed Jesus, and was called the disciple whom Jesus loved. After the other apostles had been put to death, John was still permitted to live, although banished to an island called Patmos. While living there alone, God made him write several letters with kind and loving messages to believers, whom the aged apostle loved to call little children.
I need not tell you that there are little children young in years, as well as young in Christ, whose sins are forgiven. Perhaps you, dear young readers, know that your sins are forgiven; or perhaps you know of some young companions whose sins are forgiven. If you do not remember anyone whom you play with now, can you not remember some whom Jesus has taken to be with Himself, who were not afraid to die because their sins were forgiven for His Name’s sake? I could tell you of several who are now with the Lord Jesus—some were my companions, some my little sisters—whom I expect to see when Jesus comes.
I well remember their sorrow about their sins, their repentance, and how, when they turned to the Lord, He forgave them, and when their sins were all forgiven, they did not fear death.
I well knew about little children who were troubled by reason of unforgiven sins, for I was one of them. I could not bear the thought of dying, because I knew I deserved to be cast into hell. I had done many wicked things, and indulged in many evil thoughts. God had said that the wages of sin is death, and that all liars shall have their portion in the lake of fire, and that whosoever loveth and maketh a lie shall be amongst the dogs outside the gates of His heavenly city.
I was sorely afraid lest I should die young. When a companion died I was glad it was not me. I knew that my father and mother had the forgiveness of sins, and would be in heaven; and I feared God would bring me unto judgment and reveal the secrets of my heart: and then that my parents would be parted from me forever—they would go into life eternal, and I into everlasting punishment!
One night, when in my room alone, my sins rose before me. I buried my head in the bed clothes, and tried hard to sleep. Then I dreamed that the judgment had come. I passed through darkness, and stood in a great company, where one after another was passing into judgment. I awaited my turn, and saw dark angels claiming some, who wept and cried aloud, and bright ones receiving others with joy. My turn was very near: it came, and I was carried forward into the presence of the Judge. One glance and I saw that it was the Lord Jesus; I saw His look of pity, but I knew. He must utter that awful word “Depart!” and I sank at His feet in all the agony of the feeling that I was hopelessly and eternally lost. Crying for mercy, I awoke.
I determined then that I would give over sinning, and try to please God and be a better boy; but every day I felt I was only adding new sins to the old list, and imagined that there could be no creature on earth so abominable in God’s sight as I.
In almost every possible way I tried to ease my conscience or to be better, and to commit fewer sins; but the more I tried to cleanse my ways the deeper I got into the mire, until I felt it was useless to hope that I could ever be fit for heaven, or become a child of God.
One day a Christian gentleman wrote me a letter, and at a glance I saw the subject of it, and put it away to read it when alone. He told me in that letter that he had seen my anxiety and fears, that he had been praying for me, and that I must come to see him.
The sympathy of that friend was as a precious ointment; I wept, and yet I was glad. The secret of years was found out—the cause of my unhappiness—and I felt I had a friend. He spoke to me of the mercy of God, that He could forgive sins; and afraid as I was of God I at once set about to pray for pardon and mercy.
The feeling of what a sinner I was, made me pray in secret, lest my friends should think that I was a saint. Thus days passed, but all my prayers seemed in vain; I was yet in my sins, and conjecturing reasons why God should not have mercy on me.
One day when at my accustomed task, crying for mercy, the utter hopelessness of my case crossed my mind. I saw myself in hell. Must I perish? In agony, almost distracted, I said, “If I could see Christ I would cast myself in all my wretchedness at His feet, and if I must perish it would be there.” Then the word of the Lord came before my mind about blind Bartimaeus, who, in his blindness, cried to the Jesus He could not see; and there rose then before my heart the tender grace of the One to whom the blind man cried, as He stood still and commanded Bartimaeus to be called, and the question, “What will ye?” and the ready response to the poor man’s wish.
I saw the Lord then in a new light, as I had never seen Him; it was not an angry God, but a gracious, kind, tender-hearted Saviour—Bartimaeus’s friend—that I had before me. Could it be possible? I asked myself. Is that God? the God I hated and feared? I saw then that I had been doubly blind, and I uttered to God my shame, that I had not believed in His love and tenderness, but had such wrong and wicked thoughts about Him.
I asked forgiveness for the sins I could not reckon up, for they were more than the hairs of my head, and He forgave them all.
The burden of guilt was gone, I did not know myself, my heart was as light as a feather; I wept for joy alone there in that room and blessed God; thanked Him and wept again for very joy, calling the Lord Jesus all the sweet names my heart could imagine, for He was so precious to me. God was my Father now; I knew and felt the God, who gave Jesus that I might not perish, was to me a God of love, and I His child.
I drew up the blind, and far away in the west the sun was setting, the clouds were tinged with gold, and the thought of a heaven and a glory for me, for the first time broke in upon my heart—my delight was rapturous. Again I fell down on my knees and blessed God, who had given me the knowledge of forgiveness and the joy of His love and the hope of glory.
I could add much more, but write only to tell you how I got in amongst the little children whose sins are forgiven for His Name’s sake.
Many years have come and gone since then, and the little child has been carried to gray hairs; but the burden of sin that was lifted off my heart that day has never come back, and the joy that was put into my heart by God has never gone away; and I think if there has been one thing more than another that I have blessed and thanked God for, it has been because, as a little child, He gave me to know my Saviour, and to get my sins forgiven.
If you, dear child, are yet in your sins, I pray my precious Saviour to send some word to you that your heart may be broken, and that you may be brought to Him who says to sinners, “I would, but ye would not;” who has stretched out His hands all the day; who complains that they will not come unto Him, that they may have life; who says, “Whosoever will, let him take of the water of life freely; him that cometh unto Me, I will no wise cast out.” S. S.