“For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life.” Rom. 5:1010For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life. (Romans 5:10).
If ever there was a moment in the which it was important to set forth the great foundation truths of Christianity, it is just now. The enemy is seeking, by every means in His power, to loosen the foundations of our faith—to weaken the authority of holy scripture over the heart and conscience—to introduce, in the most specious and fascinating forms, deadly error, in order to draw away the soul from Christ and His word.
It may, perhaps, be said, “This is an old story.” No doubt; it is as old as the second epistle to Timothy: second epistle of Peter, and Jude. But it is a new story also; and while we do not feel it to be our work, as the conductors of “Things New and Old,” to grapple, in a controversial way, with popular errors and evils, we do believe it to be our sacred duty to set forth and maintain constantly those grand, solid, fundamental truths which are our only safeguard against every form of doctrinal error and moral pravity.
Hence it is that we feel called upon, at the opening of our Volume for 1870, to draw the attention of our readers to that very weighty passage which stands at the head of this paper. It is one of the fullest and most comprehensive statements of foundation doctrine to be found within the compass of the Volume of God. Let us meditate for a little upon it.
In examining the context in which this passage stands, we find four distinct terms by which the inspired writer sets forth the condition of man, in his unconverted state. He speaks of him as “without strength.” This is what we may call a negative term. Man is utterly powerless, wholly incapable of doing aught toward his own deliverance. He had been tried in every possible way. God had tested him and proved him, and found him absolutely good for nothing. When placed in Eden, in the midst of the ten thousand delights which a beneficent Creator had poured around him, he believed the devil’s lie rather than the truth of God. (Genesis hi.) When driven out of Eden, we see him pursuing a career of evil—“evil only”—evil continually—until the judgment of God falls upon the whole race, with one solitary exception—Noah and his family. (Gen. 6-8.) Further, when in the restored earth man is entrusted with the sword of government, he gets drunk and exposes himself to contempt in the very presence of his sons. When entrusted with the holy office of the priesthood, he offers strange fire. (Lev. 5) When entrusted with the high office of king, and enriched with untold wealth, he marries strange wives and worships the idols of the heathen. 2 Chron. 11.
Thus, wherever we trace man—the human race, we see nothing but the most humiliating failure. Man is proved to be good for nothing—“without strength.”
But there is more than this. Man is “ungodly.” He is not only powerless as to all that is holy and good, but also without one single moral or spiritual link with the living and true God. Examine the unrenewed heart, from its center to its circumference, and you will not find so much m one true thought about God, or one right affection toward God. There may be a great deal that is amiable and attractive in the way of nature—much that is morally lovely in the eyes of men—many social virtues, and excellent qualities. Human nature, even in its ruins, may exhibit much of all these; just as the visible creation—this earth on which we live—displays, spite of its ruined and groaning condition, many splendid traces of the master hand that formed it.
All this is perfectly true, and perfectly obvious; and moreover, it must ever be taken into account, in dealing with the great question of man’s standing and condition. There is an ultra way of speaking of the sinner’s state which is much more likely to stumble and perplex the mind than to convict the conscience or break the heart. This should be carefully avoided. We should ever take account of all that is really good in human nature. If we look at the case of the rich young ruler, in Mark 10, we must see that the Lord recognized something lovable in him, for we read that “Jesus beholding him, loved him,” though we have no warrant whatever to suppose that there was aught of divine work in his soul, seeing that he turned his back upon Christ, and preferred the world to Him. But there was evidently something most attractive in this young man—something very different indeed from those gross, coarse, and degraded forms in which human nature ofttimes clothes itself.
Now, we cannot but judge that the man who, in writing or discoursing upon the sinner’s moral and spiritual state, would ignore or lose sight of those moral and social distinctions, docs positive damage to the cause of truth, and neutralizes the very object which we must believe he has in view. If, for example, we approach an amiable, upright, frank, and honorable person, and, in a sweeping manner, reduce him to a dead level, or place him in the same category with a crooked, cross-grained, scheming, dishonest, contemptible character, we only drive him away in irritation and disgust. Whereas, on the other hand, if we recognize whatever is really good; if we allow—as scripture most surely does—a sufficient margin in which to set down all that is morally and socially excellent even in fallen humanity, we are, to speak after the manner of men, much more likely to gain our end, than by injudiciously ignoring those distinctions, which, inasmuch as they clearly exist, it is the height of folly to deny. Still, it holds good—and let the reader solemnly consider the weighty fact—that man—the very best, the very fairest specimen—is “without strength,” and “ungodly.” Nor is this all. The apostle does not rest in mere negatives. He not only tells us what man is not, but he goes on to tell us what he is. He gives us both sides of this great question. He not only declares that, “When we were without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly” but he adds that, “God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”
Here, then, we have the positive activity of evil—the actual energy of self-will. For, be it remembered, sin is doing our own will, in whatever line that will may travel, whatever form it may assume. It may present itself to our view in the shape of the grossest moral pravity, or it may array itself in the garb of a cultivated and refined taste; but it is self-will all the while, and self-will is sin. It may be only like the acorn—the mere seed; but the acorn contains the wide spreading oak. Thus the heart of the newly born infant is a little seed-plot in which may be found the germ of every sin that ever was committed in this world. True, each seed may not germinate or bring forth fruit; but the seed is there, and only needs circumstances or influences to unfold it. If anyone be kept from gross outward sins, it is not owing to a better nature, but simply to the fact of his surroundings. All men are sinners. All by nature do their own will. This stamps their character. “All have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.” From the days of fallen Adam to this moment—well-nigh six thousand years, there has been but one solitary exception to this solemn and terrible rule—only One who never sinned—never did His own will, and that is the blessed Lord Jesus Christ, who, though God over all blessed forever, yet, having become a man, He surrendered His own will completely, and did ever and only the things that pleased His Father. From the manger to the cross, He was ruled, in all things, by the will and the glory of God. He was the only perfect spotless man that ever trod this sin-stained earth—the only fair untainted sheaf that ever appeared in the field of this world— “the man Christ Jesus,” who died for us “sinners”—“suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, to bring us to God.”
What marvelous grace! what soul-subduing love! what amazing mercy! Oh! how it should melt these hearts of ours! Think, dear reader—think deeply of this love, this grace, this mercy. Dwell upon it until thy whole soul is absorbed in the contemplation of it. We are painfully insensible and indifferent. Indeed, there is nothing more humbling than our culpable, our shameful indifference to a Savior’s love. We seem content to take salvation as the result of His cross and passion—His agony and grief—His ineffable sorrow, while, at the same time, our hearts are cold and indifferent to Him. He left the bright heavens, and came down into this dark and sinful world for us. He went down into the gloomy depths of death and the grave. He endured the hiding of God’s countenance, which involved more intense anguish to His precious soul than all that men and devils, earth and hell could do—He sank in deep waters, and went down into the horrible pit and into the miry clay—all this He did for us “sinners,” when we were “ungodly,” and “without strength;” and yet how little we think of it! How little we dwell upon it! How little we are moved by the record of it!
The remembrance of this should humble us in the dust, before our precious Savior-God. The hardness of our hearts in the presence of the profound mystery of the cross and passion of our Lord Christ is, if possible, a more signal and striking proof of our depravity than the sins for which He died.
But we have rather anticipated what may yet come before us in the further unfolding of our subject; and we shall close this paper with a brief reference to the fourth term by which the apostle sets forth our condition in nature. This is contained in the verse which forms our present thesis: “We were enemies.” What a thought! We were not merely powerless, godless, sinful; but actually hostile—in a state of positive enmity against God.
Nothing can possibly exceed this. To be the enemy of God gives the most appalling idea we can possibly have of a sinner’s state. And yet such is the actual condition of the unconverted reader of these lines. He is an enemy of God. He may be amiable, polite, attractive, refined, cultivated, educated, moral, and even outwardly religious. He may occupy the very highest platform of religious profession—be a church member—a regular communicant—a worker in the vineyard—a Sunday school teacher—a preacher—a minister, and all the while an enemy of God.
How awful the thought! Oh! beloved reader, do pause and consider, we beseech thee. Give this solemn question your undivided attention, just now. Do not put it aside. We appeal to thee, with all earnestness, as in the presence of Almighty God, of His Son Jesus Christ, and of the Eternal Spirit. We adjure thee, by the value of thy immortal soul, by the dread reality of the judgment seat of Christ, by all the horrors of that lake which burneth with fire and brimstone, by the worm that never dies, by the awful fact of eternity—an eternity in the gloomy shades of hell—by the unutterable agony of being separated forever from God, from Christ, and from all that is pure and lovely—by the combined force of all these arguments, we do earnestly and affectionately beseech thee to flee, this moment, to the Savior who stands with open arms and loving heart to receive thee. Come to Jesus! Come, now! Come, just as thou art! Only trust Him, and thou art safe—safe forever—safe as He.
(To be continued, if the Lord will.)