THE difficulties which present themselves to even really earnest seekers after salvation are many. Perhaps one of the most common is the question of a certain fitness or preparation, which entitles the soul to draw near to Christ. There is in many a heart a desire to be His, but a shrinking from unreservedly coming to Him because of a conscious lack. That this lack is a profoundly mistaken idea makes the difficulty none the less: nor is it always easy to convince such souls that Christ’s invitation is their warrant, and their need, and nothing but their need, is their justification in approaching the Lord. While vainly waiting and hoping to find in themselves something which they think would suit the Lord, they are simply robbing themselves of the present enjoyment of blessing which might be theirs.
This condition was very markedly evident in a young lady who once put to me the question which heads this paper, and though many years have rolled by since she uttered it, I have never forgotten the incident that led to it. It was on this wise. I learned that a number of God’s children were about to gather in York, for a few days’ study of Scripture and ministry of the Word of the Lord, for mutual edification. Though uninvited, I felt assured my brethren would welcome me in their midst, and I accordingly wrote to a Christian man, whose name and address I possessed, asking him to secure for me a lodging, which I should be glad to pay for, and saying that I would call at his house and learn the address thereof.
When I arrived in the Cathedral Town I made at once for his house. The door was opened by a pleasant-looking young lady, about twenty years of age, who, when I mentioned my name and the object, of my call, at once replied, “Oh, father is out; but please come in, there is a letter here for you!”
“A letter for me,” I rejoined, “I thought no one knew I was coming here.”
“But you are Dr Wolston of Edinburgh, are you not?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then it must be for you, for that is the address upon it;” and so saying, she handed me the letter, which she told me then was from their family medical attendant, who had heard through her father that I was coming to York. I had never seen him, but I had already the pleasure of knowing his dear Christian wife, whom many years previously I met in Cornwall.
First reading and then putting the letter in my pocket, I turned to my young acquaintance and asked if she were a Christian. She flushed at my question, but at once answered that she was not a Christian.
“Have you no desire to be?” I inquired.
“Yes, I have often wished I were one, but somehow I am not one yet.”
“And what is your hindrance? Is not the Lord Jesus willing to save you?”
“Yes, I believe He is.”
“And are you desirous of being saved?”
“Yes.”
“Why, then, have you not come to the Lord and let Him save you?”
“Ah, there is my difficulty,” she replied. “I do not think I am fit to come to Him.”
“What other fitness than your need as a sinner do you require?” I asked.
“Why, certainly my life ought to be changed, and I ought to be better than I am, and quite different from what I am if I am to come to Him and be a Christian,” was her answer.
A good long conversation ensued on this, but her difficulty was in no way met, so putting my hand in my pocket I drew forth the letter she had given me, and read it to her. It ran thus: ―
MY DEAR DOCTOR, ―I have heard from my patient, Mr.―, that you are coming to York for a few days, and my wife and I trust you will give us the pleasure of showing you hospitality. We hope you will take up your abode under our roof, where we shall do all we can to make your stay pleasant, and if you do not come I shall not be able to any more sign myself―Yours fraternally, ―.
When finished, I said to her, “What do you think I should do?”
“You’ll go, won’t you?” she at once replied very earnestly.
“Do you think the invitation is genuine?” said I.
“Genuine,” she answered, “of course it is. Why, the writer is our doctor, a very nice gentleman, and I am sure he means what he says, and will be very glad to receive you.”
“Well,” I said, “it certainly is a very hearty invitation to send to a total stranger as I am, and you think, therefore, that I should accept it?”
“Most certainly, if you care to go,” she added emphatically.
“Stop,” I rejoined, “I should like to go, but just look at my coat. I have had it for a considerable time, and it is getting a little bit threadbare.”
“But there is nothing about your coat in that letter, sir; it is you he wants.”
“But look at my traveling bag. I have possessed it many years, the shine has gone off it, and it is certainly the worse for wear.”
“But there is nothing about your bag in that letter,” she rather testily replied.
“Well, look at my umbrella,” said I, “it is getting old and rather dilapidated.”
“But, dear me, there is nothing about your umbrella in that letter. It is you he invites, and you he wants. He is not caring about the things you speak of.”
“Oh, I see! He wants me, irrespective of my gear and get-up.”
“Exactly,” she replied, and again exclaimed, “You’ll go, won’t you?”
“One question more,” I said: “do you think I need nothing but the invitation to warrant my going?”
“Certainly, He wishes for your company, and he has invited you in a very warm way; what more can you want, sir?”
“Nothing,” I answered. “I can clearly see my title to go is the fact that he has invited me. Now let me ask you another question, What is your title to go to Jesus?”
Her answer was simple, “That He has invited me to come to Him.”
“Then why don’t you, my dear girl?” I inquired. “He says, ‘Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest’ (Matt. 11:2828Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28)), and further asseverates, He that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that believeth on me shall never thirst,... and him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out’ (John 6:35-3735And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst. 36But I said unto you, That ye also have seen me, and believe not. 37All that the Father giveth me shall come to me; and him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out. (John 6:35‑37)).”
Light seemed to break in on her soul, and I trust she came to the Lord.
Reader, have you come to the Lord yet? If not, why not? If your difficulty has been some desire to find something in yourself different from what you have hitherto found there—some feeling, some experience, some change, some emotion, be persuaded that all such difficulties are but Satan’s devices to keep you out of present blessing, and the enjoyment of the blessed Saviour’s love. Oh, drop all these foolish reasonings and workings of your own mind, and as a poor sinner just cast yourself on Him. Come to Him, trust Him, and you will find the truth of His Word, “Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.” Surely, “You’ll go, won’t you?”
But I must finish my story. Our conversation ended, I at once repaired to the doctor’s house. He had been called out to see a patient, but his wife welcomed me most warmly as an old friend, and we sat down to tea, and talked of the things of the Lord, till the door opened and the doctor entered. Seeing me he came forward with both hands outstretched, and said, “So you have come; I am delighted. I hoped you would. The fact is, if you had not come I never should have forgiven you.” My welcome, in fact, was charmingly complete, and my little tale I think illustrates not alone the ground on which a sinner comes to the Lord, but the kind of welcome which the coming one receives from the One who invites. The welcome given me by the doctor was after the sort which the prodigal got from his father when he came back (see Luke 15). He was received with open arms, while the kiss of pardon and reconciliation was pressed upon his cheek, and the whole house was filled with joy on account of his reception.
Such indeed is God’s wonderful way of receiving a vile, good-for-nothing sinner like writer or reader. To the latter I again say, “You’ll go, won’t you?”
W. P. P. W.