FELIX, the Roman governor, sent for Paul his prisoner, and heard him concerning “the faith in Christ.” The result was that Felix trembled. What was there in “the faith in Christ” to produce this tremor? What caused the proud Roman to quail?
He wished to learn the doctrines of a faith which was daily spreading and becoming more influential. Wherein lay the charm? What was the secret which made its confessors so bold?
Doubtless Felix had prepared himself for a disquisition on a peculiar system of religious philosophy, a quiet and quieting lullaby of wisdom, in which were hidden ideas of love and laxity or perhaps, a plan of sedition and tumult. What could this faith be? He was full of curiosity. He had obtained, together with his wife―the adulterous Drusilla—a private audience of Paul. He listened, he learned, he trembled. Did Paul disclose the mysteries of the faith? Did he announce all the treasures of that Christianity of which he was a steward? Did he preach the gospel in its rich wealth of saving grace?
Well, Paul was a wise master-builder, and knew perfectly how to do his work.
He had before him, in this private interview, two specially guilty people―sinners of no ordinary type. Their position was high, their moral character very low. This honored servant of Christ was not there to curry favor, or to seek, by false and flattering terms, to obtain a relaxation of his punishment. It was not for him to condone sin, or to speak unfaithfully.
Here were two souls, immortal, responsible to God, and fully guilty.
To them he would present no sentimental theory of a mercy that could act without judgment, or of a salvation that could be had without repentance. He had facts and not theories to deal with. He had God before his mind, and sin and eternity, and guilty souls. He reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come―plain, solid, awful facts! and, as he reasoned, Felix trembled!
And why?
Unrighteousness and intemperance are followed by “judgment to come,” as certainly as day is followed by night.
“Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.”
Felix was both unrighteous and intemperate―his conscience cried aloud―the evidence of his guilt was at his side―and hence, all too plainly, “judgment to come” was his inevitable doom. This he saw, and he was “filled with fear.”
Is there any evidence of his repenting? Alas, no! Fear and repentance are far from being identical. Devils trembled. He procrastinated, and trifled, and hoped for mercy. He left both Paul and his own conscience bound. Of what use to a man, in such a condition, would have been the gospel of salvation? He was not sick, nor did he need a physician! He was not broken down under a true and penitential acknowledgment of his guilt, nor did he cry for pardon!
Paul was divinely wise in driving home the fact of “judgment to come”!
Guilt, and the Bar of God, the sinner, and the great White Throne go together.
Responsibility and “judgment to come” are correlative.
There are times when it is well and wise to preach “the faith in Christ,” and to show that, at His cross, judgment was passed on man, and that there the race reached its end, morally speaking, before God, so that from that, as a new starting point, God begins wholly afresh in the work of a new creation; but for the apprehension of this truth, souls must be subjects of grace already. How could a Felix appreciate such deliverance? No, “judgment to come” is a truth justly preparatory to all others, and the example of the apostle may well be followed by us in dealing with all, whether outwardly guilty or not, who have never truly repented before God.
Yes, reader, I beg you not to blind your eye or dull your conscience as to the fact of “judgment to come”!
To escape from that judgment, turn to Calvary, and see One bearing our sins in His own body, so that by faith in Him, our blessed Substitute and Saviour, there might be “no condemnation” for us.
J. W. S.