IF we consider the value of an immortal soul in the light of scripture, we shall not think any care or anxiety too much for its salvation. Sometimes it may be a great trial to an affectionate heart to disturb the repose of one who is apparently dying, but unprepared for death. A false peace, a false hope, has lulled the soul to sleep on the slippery brink of hell. The delusion of Satan has been successful. But, alas, the question of sin has never been raised, the holiness of God has never been thought of, the conscience has never been exercised, and God, as the judge of sin, is unknown.
When this is apparent, what is to be done? There must, unquestionably, be plain speaking, however tender the affection. It is a question of life and death—of eternal life and eternal death. We must see and bring such an one face to face with God about sin; as the Psalmist expresses it, “Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight; that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest.” It is only in such close quarters with God that the sinner can learn God’s thoughts about sin, and about himself as a sinner. Bat those who have had the experience of such visits to sick chambers, know the difficulties and hindrances attending such work. The sleepy conscience is unwilling to be disturbed, God’s estimate of sin is a most unwelcome sound; fond but foolish friends, flattering the already deceived soul to its eternal ruin; the faithful messenger, if he ventures to say that the loved one is still unsaved, may be considered unkind, uncharitable, unfeeling, if not cruel. This, however, thank God, is not often the case, especially with hoary-headed sinners, like Mr. W. in our last number, or with fast young men who have run their course; but it is not an uncommon thing with daughters. Unlike their brothers, it may be, whose occupation calls them more into the world, they have always been outwardly religious, amiable, and dutiful to their parents, considered good, and their accomplishments have made them many friends. Would it not be considered the height of rudeness to hint to such an one that she was as really on the broad road to destruction as the hoary headed sinner, or the fast young man? Most assuredly it would. And it requires the greatest moral courage, with a favorable opportunity, to suggest the unpalatable truth in the mildest way.
Take one case in point: the circumstances are still fresh in my memory, though in giving details I may leave out some words and add others.
A christian friend asked me to visit her sister who was supposed to be dying of consumption, but unconverted. The widowed mother with whom she lived, was also unconverted, but both very self-righteous, very satisfied with themselves. I was well known to them by name, through the sister, and had a most hearty welcome. So long as the conversation was somewhat general, we were all very happy; but the mother leaving the room gave me an opportunity of speaking, plainly to the daughter about the state of her soul. She was, as some would say, quite happy, she was quiet, and peaceful. Thank the Lord, I said, dear S., and you know now, do you, that your sins are all forgiven—all washed away by the precious blood of Jesus? You do not doubt that now, do you, dear S.? She was now looking very straight into the fire, and evidently troubled, but did not satisfy me with her answer. In effect, I repeated the same question, looking rather anxiously for an answer. But this was new ground for the young formalist, and I saw she was troubled or nervous at being left alone with me, though I had come on purpose to talk with her about her soul.
After shifting the subject a little, I again returned to the important question of our sins, and asked her if she did not think this was the first great question to be settled between us and God—the forgiveness of sins? That this subject brought before us so many other subjects that I should be delighted to talk to her about, such as the cross, the love of Jesus that brought Him down to die for us, and the power of His blood; but no, she gave me to understand that she did not wish to converse on these subjects, and wished her mother would come in. I assured her that I was only speaking in the truest love for her soul, for we were all alike guilty before God, and unless our sins are all forgiven through faith in the blood of Christ, we could not possibly enter heaven; that one single sin would be enough to shut her out of heaven and to shut her up in hell forever, and nothing but the blood of Christ could cleanse them all away. Here I was interrupted with a loud scream for her mother. The mother came in at once; the daughter, in a whining voice, calling out, “I don’t want Mr. to speak to me in this way, I wish he would not speak to me anymore, he makes me so unhappy.” By this time the mother had her arms around her neck, soothing and patting her peevish child; but her words of consolation are never to be forgotten by me: “You should not be unhappy, my dear, you know you were so happy yesterday when Mr. H. called and read a chapter and prayed with you, were you not? you told me you were quite happy?” “Yes, mother, but Mr.—has made me quite miserable.” “But you must not be miserable, my dear S., perhaps Mr. H. will call to-morrow and see you.”
The rest of our conversation need not be recorded. The mother endeavored to explain to her daughter that I meant it all for good; and to apologize to me for the weakly, nervous state of her daughter. After a few words of solemn warning to both, we parted; I never saw her again.
But, oh 1 how can I speak of the fearful delusion?
How can I sound out from the pages of “Things New and Old” the suitable warning voice? How can I impress on all who have to do with sick chambers and death beds, the importance of plain and faithful dealing with the immortal soul? Graven deeply on my memory were these awful words of false consolation, “You know you were so happy yesterday when Mr. H. called and read a chapter and prayed with you.” “But what,” ten thousand voices in Christendom will ask, “what more, what better, could a minister do than read a chapter to the sick, and offer up a prayer?” In some circumstances, we reply, nothing more, nothing better; and we are free to say, that many in their ministerial calls do much less. But in the case before us it only lulled the conscience into a deeper sleep in sin; she being still unconverted, still “dead in trespasses and sins,” still unawakened as to her real state as a sinner, still ignorant of the character of God, His hatred of sin as shown in the work of Christ, and her need of pardon, just as much as the very chief of sinners. Close dealing with the conscience, in dependence on God, while the soul is in this state, is the visitor’s only mission. Searching conversation and prayer, with texts bearing on this subject, must be his only weapons. No soul is ever serious, ever real, ever true, until it has been brought face to face with the living God, and entered in some measure into His thoughts of sin.
Were it not as a warning voice to all visitors, and for the eternal welfare of immortal souls, we should never think of bringing before the public eye such private scenes. But all false delicacy must give way when the truth of God, the glory of Christ, and the salvation of the soul are concerned. And we can honestly say, that while we cherish in our hearts nothing but love for all those to whom this paper relates, we cannot but lament over that scene with a loud and bitter lamentation. Who so loved, so trusted, so unsuspected, as a minister, and a mother? The countenance of the invalid brightens up at the sound of his footstep, and so it should be when he is shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace. His kindly inquiries, his familiar voice in reading and prayer, how soothing! and rightly so, when Christ is known and loved. But if the same thing be done to the unconverted, the mere formalist, or the young lady who lived in pleasure, how dangerous! But more, alas, how eternally ruinous! The only two, perhaps, in the whole world whose word she would have received without a question, are thus used of Satan to deepen the self-delusion of her never-dying soul. To drop from a mother’s arms, and from under the sound of a flattering priestly benediction into the dreary depths of hopeless woe, is so dreadful an end, that it calls for the most faithful, earnest, solemn warning. The truth, however painful, must be told.
But the picture is too awful to contemplate; we cannot pursue it further. The Lord grant that it may be a warning to all mothers, ministers, preachers, pastors, and visitors, of every kind and measure. Let the first inquiry be, Is thy soul saved? All further service must proceed on the ascertained fact. And much spiritual discernment is needed for this blessed work. So many deceive themselves. Numbers will say they are quite happy, just because they have never done anything very bad, and they may have taken pleasure in religious duties, in acts of charity, and in other good works. Such will readily say, that they are quite happy, and would not be afraid to die at any moment, though they have not the slightest idea of their condition as sinners, or that in God’s sight they need a Savior just as much as the drunkard or the blasphemer. This is a hard lesson for all to learn, especially for the self-righteous and the morally good; but the word of God says, “There is no difference; for all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.”
But what says my reader to all this? Surely thou halt learned in glancing over these pages, that the right way is to come at once, without delay, without hesitation, to Christ Himself, the loving Savior of sinners. This is His own way—“Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Nothing can be plainer, nothing can be surer, and nothing can be more easily understood. The soul will never be deceived or disappointed that trusts in the blessed Jesus; as we read in Psalm 2, “Blessed are all they that put their trust in him.” But there is no blessing, remember, to any soul under the whole heavens apart from trusting in Him. He, and He alone, is the Rock-foundation of the soul. Thou Last, then, my dear reader, but one question to ask; Is He worthy of thy trust? Thou wilt surely answer, Yes; yes, I see He is fit to be trusted with the whole heart. Then this is faith; being satisfied of this, the heart is at rest; we straightway believe.
Henceforth let me entreat thee to maintain the most direct communion between thy soul and Himself. Read for thyself, examine for thyself, believe for thyself, trust for thyself, hope for thyself. Christianity is an intensely individual thing. All priestly confessors belong to the apostasy. Sacramental grace, or hoping to be saved by attending to the ordinances of the church, is rank popery, a fatal delusion. Trust not thy precious soul to the care of others; it is only safe in Christ’s hands. Thou mayest accept of the service of others in so far as that will help thee to Him; but reject everything that would come between thee and Him—that would prove as the lullaby of Satan to sing thy soul to sleep unsaved.