2. Often recall to mind your former sin. It was the custom of the
"Similis simile amat" is a rule in nature, but in this case, "Deus optimus diligit hominem pessimum."
It is that which does amaze the disciples; they could not tell the reason why Christ should manifest himself to them, John 14:22.
Perhaps you are only snatched out of a family; the wrath of God may have fallen upon the rest, and you only escaped. Has he not lopped down many cedars in morality and chosen you, a thorn, a shrub, to deck heaven with? Are not many damned that were not guilty of your sins?
How wonderful is it that such a black firebrand should be made a statue fit for glory! He might have written your name as easily in his black book as in his white. Is it not admirable mercy for a God provoked, to take pains with stiff-necked sinners, and to beat down mountains of high imaginations, to rear up a temple to himself? If mercy had knocked once or twice, and no more, you would have dropped into hell; but mercy would not leave knocking. Perhaps your sins were so great that if you had gone but a little farther, you would have been irrecoverable, but God put a stop to the proud waves, saying, 'Hitherto shall you go, and no further.'
2. Often recall to mind your former sin. It was the custom of the saints of God in the past. When Matthew lists the twelve apostles in Matthew 10:3, of whom he was one, he remembers his former profession, "Matthew the tax collector," but none of the other evangelists call him that in that list.
(1.) It makes us more humble. Thoughts of pride cannot stay with us when we frequently remember our rags, chains, and shackles. What was there in your former life but misery to move God to show mercy to you? Although Paul had a greater revelation than any we read of, indeed, than Christ himself had (for we do not read that Christ was caught up into the third heaven), how often does he recall his sin of persecuting to maintain his humility and halt the growth of pride.
(2.) It will make us thankful. A sense of misery increases our obligation to mercy. Those at sea are most grateful for deliverance when they contemplate the danger of the preceding storm. A long night makes a clear morning more welcome.
(3.) It will make you more active in the practice of that grace which is opposed to your former sin. Christ asked Peter three times whether he loved him in John 21, to silently remind him of his recent sin and to have a threefold expression of his love, proportionate to his threefold denial.
(4.) It will be a protection against falling into the same sin again.
Perhaps Christ might urge Peter's love with that threefold demand, to renew his repentance for his apostasy, as the best remedy against falling into the same sin again. Therefore, Peter was upset when
Jesus asked him the third time, not so much because of his Master's suspicion of his faithfulness, but because of the justified reason for his concern about Peter's fall. And at this third question, Peter remembered his denial and renewed his grief for his previous unworthy behavior. So, look back on your former sin, but with anger and shame, to strengthen your detestation, to suppress your former enjoyment of it, and to magnify the mercy of God, who has delivered you from it. When the Corinthians were proud of their spiritual gifts, the apostle humbled them by reminding them of their cursed state:
"You know that you were Gentiles, carried away to these mute idols,"
1 Cor. 12:2. When a convert frequently reflects on what they once were in their unregenerate state, they would not return to that state again for all the honours, profits, and pleasures of the world, such great pleasure they take in the work of the new creation.
The second part of the exhortation is for those who are in a state of doubt. The main objection they make is the greatness of sin. "Oh, there was never such a great sinner in the world as I am! If you search all of hell, you will not find another like me. Surely God will never forgive me; my sins are too great to be forgiven." Such language is sometimes spoken by men, partly urged on by the devil
to disparage that royal prince Jesus, who came to destroy his works and to keep up enmity between God and man, making the creature have jealous thoughts of the Creator. And partly from a person's conscience, which, acting by those legal principles written in the heart by nature, which are directive and condemning upon nonobservance, but discover nothing of pardoning grace. This was the first act of natural conscience in Adam after he sinned; he had the least thought of forgiveness, for he thought only of how he might escape from the presence of God. If you persist in such speeches, they discredit your Creator and argue that you are one of Cain's descendants, who indeed told God to his face that his "sin was greater than could be forgiven," Gen. 4:13. I will argue a little with those who think this way.
But, first, are you really the greatest sinner? I can hardly believe it.
Have you ever sinned at the rate Paul did? Or were you ever possessed by such fury? Surely there have been some sinners as great as you are, even if you are as bad as can be. If you were to look over the names of all those in heaven and ask them what sins they were guilty of before God showed mercy to them, I cannot think that you wouldn't find many that would match you, and even exceed you too.
You cannot charge yourself with any black circumstances, but you would find someone who would say, "Oh, I was in the same condition, and even worse!" What do you think of Christ's murderers who resisted the eloquence of his sermons and the power of his miracles? And when his death had darkened the sun, shook the earth, and split the rocks, and rent the veil of the temple in two, not one heart among that murderous crew had any saving relentings that we read of. And yet, some of these were converted by Peter's sermon, and the pardon of them left on record by the Spirit of God.
Haven't some of God's greatest favourites been the greatest sinners?
Didn't Adam bring the guilt of all his posterity upon himself, and in some sense be charged with the sins of all those who came out of his loins, even all mankind? Yet, the first promise of the gospel was
made to him, even before any sentence was pronounced against him for his sin, Gen. 3:15.
Secondly, even if you are the greatest sinner, is staying away from Christ the way to make all your sins less? Are you so rich as to pay this great debt out of your own revenue? Or do you have any hope in another surety? Did anyone, man or angel, tell you they could satisfy for you? Can complaints of a great load, without endeavoring its removal, ease the back that bears it?
Thirdly, Are your sins the greatest? Is not avoiding Christ making them greater? Doesn't God command you to come to Christ? And isn't your delay a greater act of disobedience than your humility can be a complaint of your sinfulness? Don't you have enough burden already? But do you want to add unbelief, which is as bad as all your other sins combined? Isn't a refusal of his mercy provoking? You are crazy if you think that your sin can decrease by trampling upon Christ's heart and rejecting his compassion. You have sinned against justice, against wisdom, against common providence. Isn't this enough, but you also want to rob him of an opportunity to show the riches of his grace, by refusing the blood of his Son, which his wisdom devised and his love offers? Who is persuading you to stay away from Christ? Is it God? Show me where he says so? Show me your authority from God's warrant. But since you cannot, I am sure it is your own corrupt heart and the devil in league together. And can't you say of him far better than Ahab did of Micaiah, 'You never prophesied good to me'? No, he never did, nor ever will. What, do you want to make yourself even worse by following the devil's advice instead of obeying God's command? If your sin is great, let it multiply your tears, but do not let it stop your progress to Christ.
Fourthly, If your sins were less than they are, you might not believe in Christ so easily, as you can now. If you will not believe while your sins are great and your heart is wicked, I can assure you, if your heart were not wicked and your sins little, you still would not believe, because you would be inclined to believe in your own heart and trust
in your own righteousness, rather than believe in Christ. Great sins and a wicked heart felt and lamented, are rather an advantage, like hunger is an incentive for a man to seek food. If people had clean hearts, they would probably use them differently and think Christ should come to them. People's poverty should make them more importunate rather than more modest. To say, "I will not come to Christ because I have great sins," is like saying, "I will never have anything to do with happiness if it is offered, because I have great misery. I will not go to a surgeon because my wound is so great. I will not eat bread because I am so exceedingly hungry and likely to starve." This is bad logic, and so it is with you to argue that because you are unclean, you will not go to the fountain to be washed, or to think to be sanctified before believing. Now since you have, as you confess, no righteousness to trust in, I think you should be more easily persuaded to throw yourself upon Christ, since there is no other way.
If, therefore, you are afraid of drowning under these mighty floods which roll upon you, I think you should do as men ready to perish in the waters, catch hold of that which is next to them, though it be the dearest friend they have; and there is none nearer to you than Christ, nor any such friend; catch hold, therefore, of him.
The greatness of your sin is a ground for a plea. Turn your sins into arguments, as David does, 'for it is great,' Ps. 25:11; some translate it,
'though it be great;' and the Hebrew word כי will bear both. The psalmist uses two arguments, God's name, and the greatness of his sin. And both are as good arguments as they were then. You may go to God with this language in your mouth; Lord, my impurity is great, there is more need, therefore, of your washing me; my wound is deep, the greater is the necessity of some plaster for a cure. What charitable person in the world would not hasten a medicine, rather than refuse to grant it! What earthly physician would object, The disease is great, therefore there is no necessity of a cure; therefore there is no room left for my skill! And shall God be less charitable than man? Dogs may lay claim to crumbs that fall from the master's
table. You may also use the argument of God's name. Sinners may plead for grace upon the account of God's glory, viz., the glory God will have by it. His wisdom is eminent in serving his own ends by his greatest enemy. His power in conquering sin, his grace in pardoning.
Show him his own name, Exod. 34, and see if he will deny any letter of it.
If your illness were not so serious, Christ's glory would not be so impressive. The forgiveness of such sins emphasizes the mercy and skill of your Saviour. The number of demons that were in Mary
Magdalene are documented to demonstrate the power of the Saviour who expelled them and accomplished such a significant transformation. Are your sins the greatest? God, who loves to showcase His free grace in the most outstanding manner, will be pleased to have such a great sinner follow the chariot of it, and thus reveal its irresistible power. Use David's reasoning in Psalms 37:12, where in verse 8, he prayed that God would free him from his transgressions, and in verse 12, he used this argument, that he was a stranger. I know no reason why this may not apply to you, for if your sins are significant, you are further estranged from God than the average person. Lord, you command us to show kindness to strangers, to love our enemies; and will you not extend the same mercy to a stranger that you command others to use, and show the same love to such a great adversary as I am? The more significant my hostility, the more magnificent will be your love.
Therefore, plead 1, the infinity of God's mercy. It is strange if your debts are so immense that the treasury of the King of Kings cannot pay them off. Why should the apostle say that God was "rich in mercy" in Ephesians 4 and call it "great love" if it were only expended on minor sins and if any debts could exhaust it? Surely, an infinite
God cannot be merely rich in a finite manner. If God is rich in mercy, He is undoubtedly infinitely rich. You cannot assume that those who made it to heaven before you have depleted His riches, for then it would be finite, not infinite. They were not unsearchable riches if the sins of the whole world could exhaust them.
God regards his grace as the most significant part of his wealth. He calls it his riches, which is a title he does not bestow on any other attribute. Riches are not meant to be hoarded and wasted, but to be invested and traded with, and the more they are traded with, the more wealth they generate. God does not delight in keeping these riches to himself, and hoarding them for no use, for "omne bonum est sui diffusivum," which means that the more goodness anything possesses, the more it spreads itself. God loves to distribute his wealth on his own terms, and to risk grace's riches so that he can have returns of glory's riches. Therefore, if you come to God, you have access to all his wealth. Until you can be as sinful as God is merciful, or as evil as God is good, do not think that your iniquities can stop an all-powerful goodness. Mercy holds the greatest influence in God's name, as shown in Exod. 34:6-7. There is only one letter of his power, two of his justice, and nine or ten expressions of his mercy. His power accompanies his mercy and his justice, so on mercy's side against justice, there is a ratio of five to one, which is great odds.
Therefore, plead with God, "Lord, it is said in your word, 'Say not to your neighbour, Go, and come again, and to-morrow I will give you when it is in the power of your hand to do it,'" (Prov. 3:28). Should a man not be willing to give to his neighbour when he has it with him?
And shall the merciful God deny me the mercy that I beg for on my knees when he has it all in store for him? Must I forgive my brother if he offends seventy-seven times, a double perfect number? And must
I be more charitable to man than infinite mercy will be to me? Will your justice only speak and your mercy be silent, and not plead anything on my behalf? Haven't you said that you are the one "who blots out transgressions for your own sake?" (Isa. 43:25) and that you "blot out iniquities like a thick cloud?" (Isa. 44:22). Is there any cloud thick enough to overpower the melting power of the sun? And will a cloud of sin ever be so thick as to overpower the power of your mercy? Doesn't your mercy have the same strength and eloquence to plead for me as your justice has to argue against me? Is your justice better equipped with reason than your kindness with compassion?