“WELL, B., I wish you knew the Lord Jesus Christ as your Saviour. The Gospel is the power of God unto salvation to everyone that believeth’; and if you only knew God, His power would preserve you― body and soul―from evil.”
“And don’t I believe, sir?”
“Indeed you do not, B., for if you did, you would be saved, and know you were, too.”
“But how can anyone know that, sir?”
“A man knows it when he believes God’s word. And there is this also:” By this we know that we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren. “There is that blessed company on the earth now―God’s children, who are known to be such by loving one another. For example, if you, B., were a true Christian, you would love me as a fellow Christian.”
“Oh, I don’t think people can be so sure as all that.”
Such was the substance of a conversation I had with my driver one morning as we drove past T―, in the county of S―. B., poor man, was addicted to intemperance, had several times “taken the pledge,” but as often broken it; and having quite recently broken through afresh, he that morning bore upon his face unsightly indications of his dreadful propensity. He had heard little, and knew less, of the power of God’s blessed grace to preserve him from sin and its terrible consequences.
We drove on some miles, to a locality to which my duties called me, and on our way I pointed to a respectable-looking farmer’s homestead, where, I presumed, we should be allowed to feed the horse whilst I executed my duty. On my return, the farmer’s wife accosted me with the kindest affability, offering her hand, and saying, “You are a Christian, I presume, sir?”
“Yes, thank God, I am,” I replied.
The greeting―all the more welcome, because so unusual and unexpected―being over, she assembled her family together, and we spent a refreshing hour looking at the unfolding of the grace of God given to us in Luke 15.
I was quite at a loss to know the means by which the Lord had opened the woman’s heart in the way He had towards me, and how He had brought those He loved thus together. On inquiry, the following account was given me. My driver, having attended to his horse, entered the kitchen and sat down by the fire. Then, seeking to elicit sympathy in his unbelief, he related what I had been saying to him. But, so far was he from succeeding in his purpose, that his story became the means by which Mrs.― discovered a fellow believer! and this not only to poor B.’s confusion, but also in illustration of what I had been saying to him that morning!
How wretched is unbelief! It will accept sympathy from any quarter in the “broad road,” rather than yield to the light which makes its rebellious character manifest. God’s word presses upon the conscience, for weak man is dimly sensible that he, guilty as he is, has to do with his righteous Creator; and he cannot get on without the sympathy of his fellows in unbelief, which in self-will he seeks, unless he turns to the outstretched everlasting arm, and then proves the tenderness and mercy of divine love. How blessed to be enfolded in those everlasting arms, and feasted by that matchless love! Those “without” may feel envious, and essay to mock or despise; but, hearing the sound of “music and dancing” of heavenly sort “within,” they must own in their consciences, if not with their lips, “Happy is the people that is in such a case; yea, happy is the people whose God is the Lord.” J. K.