lose. Up, and be doing! Lay out every moment well. For I can recall
THE power of the creature to do evil is as striking as is his powerlessness to undo it. He has power to blight a world, though he has no power to restore freshness to one faded leaf. He can kill, but he cannot make alive again one worm beneath his feet. He can ruin to an infinite extent; he cannot rectify one displaced atom.
What terrific responsibility is this? The thought of it is fitted to act on us with power.
1. It startles. Am I, a creature, a sinner, really possessed of such power of evil? How then can I be heedless as to the very least thing I do?
2. It saddens. Alas! what sorrow is likely to be mine,—doing all manner of evil, yet undoing none! Blighting everything, but freshening nothing!
3. It overawes. What an infinite greatness does this confer on me! What stupendous importance does it attach to everything in life! Every word or action tells either for evil or good; there is nothing little, nothing unmeaning.
4. It solemnises. In such a case there is no room for levity. Life becomes a solemn thing. Far hence with all frivolity, and gaiety, and idleness!
5. It animates. If such be my responsibility, then I have no time to lose. Up, and be doing! Lay out every moment well. For I can recall nothing; I can undo nothing. For good or for evil, there it stands.
The Sinner Returning
"When he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to my father."—LUKE 15:17
WHEN he "comes to himself," he begins to think of the happy home he had left: he calls to mind his father and his father's house. He sees famine all around. No kindness meets him or supplies his poverty. Then he remembers the home of his youth.
When the sinner comes to himself, he begins to think of God. He had been trying to be happy without God; but it will not do. All refuge fails him. He is thoroughly miserable. The world is unkind and empty. Its fountains have run dry. He calls to mind his forsaken God, and thinks upon the love that he might have been enjoying. To Him he must return. If there is refuge for him anywhere, it must be with Him. If his wants are to be supplied, and his sorrows soothed, it must be by the hand of this Father. For a father is a father still, whatever may be the wickedness of a wayward son. He has heard of the free love of God shewn forth in the gift of His Son; he has heard how others, just such as he, have been received, and why not he? "I will arise and go."
And will he succeed? Will he be received? Oh, rather, ask, Is it possible that he can be sent empty away? Is it possible that the love which gave the Son can do anything but forgive and bless him?
Wilt thou be Made Whole?
"They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick."— MATT. 9:12.
IS it our health that we bring to the physician? Nay, not our health, but our sickness. In so far as we are healthy, we do not need him; but only so far as we are sick.
Yet how many reverse this in spiritual things! The amount of disease about them seems to discourage and disqualify. And they labour to find or to make some symptoms of returning health in order to qualify them for the Physician.
They say, "Alas! I have no convictions of sin; how can I come?" Why, if you have no convictions, you have all the more need to come, for that proves that you have more disease about you. They say, "I have no love; how can I come? Surely I am disqualified." Why, if you have no love, you have more need to come, and are the more qualified for the Physician by being the more sick. Each disease is a claim upon the Physician's skill and power, an appeal to the Physician's tenderness and care. Doubting, troubled spirit, hear this, and be encouraged; yea, be confident and glad. The evils of which you complain are evils which none but the Saviour can remove. Can you, then, bring them too soon? Can you bring too many of them? Are they beyond His power to relieve? And is this your reason for keeping them to yourself, and trying to get rid of them before you come? Oh the folly, as well as the wickedness of unbelief!
The Living Water
"Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters."—ISA. 55:1.
THE fountain of these living waters is God himself. With Him there is the fulness of everything that can refresh, and gladden, and bless. There can be no more question, then, that there are such waters, than there can be that God is.
If so, then, unhappy soul, you may be happy yet. There is enough in that fountain even for such a soul as thine. Its sorrows are not too deep, its troubles are not too many, its thirst is not too great. A fountain such as this is sufficient for them all.
That fountain is sending out its reviving streams. They are flowing through the plains of this parched earth. They are flowing by your side! And they are FREE. "I will give to him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely." You must not try to buy them: they are not to be bought by you. And you need not, for they are "without money and without price."
Are you not thirsty? Are you not saying, "Who will shew me any good?" Are you not asking to be made happy, yet not knowing how? Then drink abundantly of this fresh well-spring. God invites you to come and quench your thirst. That unhappiness which wearies and oppresses you is just the thirst of which God here speaks; and His saying, "Come to the waters," is just saying, "Come, and drink of this river of My free love, and be made glad for ever."
Christ's Welcome
"Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out."—JOHN 6:37.
OUR right to come is thus full and clear. It is irrespective of aught in us. It presupposes want and sin; nothing more.
The invitation is wide and free. It takes us just as we are, annexing no restriction and enjoining no prerequisite. It does not fence itself round with conditions, as if fearful lest too many might avail themselves of it, or as if desirous to keep off the unqualified and the unworthy. It makes no exceptions as to previous life or present
character; it welcomes the unworthiest. It forbids none. It leaves no room for suspicion on the part of any. "Come,—and come at once; come,—and come boldly," is its message to all; for, "him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out."
The Promiser is altogether such an one as His promise betokens. His words and His heart are in harmony. And thus the free love of the Inviter makes the invitation doubly sure. It is this free love that beckons and beseeches. It does not stand upon ceremony or insist upon terms. It does not say, "Whosoever comes in this manner or that manner, according to this rule or that rule; but, "Whosoever cometh I will in no wise cast out." Weary sinner, come at once, and be blest! You need not linger, as if the Lord Jesus was not quite willing. Make haste and claim the promise. He will shew you His love.
The Everlasting Gospel
"I saw another angel fly in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting Gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth."—REV. 14:6
IT is "eternal redemption" that is provided for us by the God-man Redeemer. So the Gospel or good news concerning this is called "everlasting." And to this the Apostle Peter refers when, contrasting the withering grass with the enduring word, he says, "But the word of the Lord endureth for ever; and this is the word which, by the gospel, is preached unto you." (1 Peter 1:25.)
It is not the Gospel of one age, but the Gospel of every age,— everlasting. It is not the Gospel of the past age, nor of the present age, nor of the age to come, but the Gospel of all ages,—everlasting.
It is not Gospel whose good news ebb and flow, darken and brighten, alternately. It abides the same,—for it is good news of the grace of Him with whom there is no variableness, who is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. Our changes cannot affect the Gospel, just as they cannot affect Him, or make Him less loving, less gracious, less forgiving.
It is a Gospel that will carry us through the gloom and weariness of our pilgrimage, even to the end; it is a Gospel that will abide with us through eternity; for it is the "everlasting Gospel," and all its blessings are, like itself, "everlasting." Everlasting life is the sure portion of the believing sinner.
The Tender Mercies of God
"The Lord is good to all; and his tender mercies are over all his works."—PSALM 145:9.
WHAT God does and what God feels must ever be in harmony. If He does what is kind and gracious, it is because He feels so. If He feeds me and clothes me and compasses me about with blessings, it must be because His interest in my welfare is sincere and deep. To suppose otherwise would be to say that while He is speaking and acting in one way, He is in reality feeling in a way totally the reverse.
This cannot be; for all is sincerity with Him. He is not like man, covering over a heart of coldness with the words or acts of love. He feels just as He acts.
Hence I can find the Gospel every where. To be kept one moment out of hell is of itself marvellous grace. But to be placed, though a sinner, in a world so fair and sunny, so full of comforts and blessings, is
grace more marvellous still. Each rising sun thus brings me glad tidings of the free love of God. Each bud, each leaf, each flower, each rain-drop, preaches to every eye that looks upon them glad tidings of the abundant grace of God. For if there be no grace for me, why am I kept here? Why am I compassed about with so many messengers of grace which, day after day, throughout the seasons, meet my ear and eye?
The Love of God
"Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins."—1 JOHN 4:10
HOW am I to measure the love of God? By the distance between "the throne of the Majesty in the heavens" and the grave in which the Son of God was laid. It was an infinite descent, and it is the measure of an infinite love.
How am I to estimate the love of God? By the gift which is so freely sent down to us—the infinite, the unspeakable gift. Nothing can equal that gift in value, and nothing can equal that love in greatness.
How am I to understand the love of God? It cannot be understood; it passeth knowledge; it is beyond the stretch of our thought.
How am I to deserve this love of God? Deserve it! It is love to the undeserving. This is its essence, its characteristic. It is absolutely free.
How am I to obtain this love of God? By receiving Him who is the embodiment, the incarnation of it. In giving credit to the divine record concerning Him, I let this holy love of God pour itself into my
soul, as light streams in upon the body the moment I open my eye to the sun. I look, and live; I look, and am healed; I look, and am blest for ever.
How am I to keep this love of God? By "holding the beginning of my confidence steadfast unto the end." (Heb. 3:14.) I am to keep hold of it, just as I first took hold of it.
Immediate Forgiveness
"Be of good cheer; thy sins be forgiven thee."—MATT. 9:2.
MANY who speak much of forgiveness like to place it beyond their reach, so that they may not obtain immediate and certain possession of it; for that would interfere with their self-righteous efforts to work or to pray themselves into the favour of God.
If I am forgiven simply in believing the record which God hath given of His Son, then all such efforts are at once superseded and set aside. I will still work, but it will be the working of grateful, happy love. I will still pray, but my praying will be the child-like breathings of the spirit of adoption, the unbosoming of my "enlarged heart" to a reconciled God.
To place forgiveness beyond the sinner's reach; to place it at the very end of his course; to make it a thing of perpetual doubt, is to afford room and excuse for self-righteousness, that very room and excuse which God, by sending us so free a Gospel, has been at such pains to take away. If there be room left for doubting, there will also be room for boasting; whereas God, in making known His free love, meant to leave no room for either.
Come, then, and be forgiven! God is holding out to you the riches of His forgiving love. Why should you hesitate or delay? His desire is to bless you now; and why should you decline an immediate blessing?
The Prevailing Name
"There is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved."—ACTS 4:12
In coming to God, I must either use my own name as my plea, or another's. In either case, I shall be dealt with by God precisely according to the value of the plea; that is, the influence of the name in which I come.
Seeing, then, I am a sinner, to use my own name, either in whole or in part, must of necessity lead to my rejection. To use another's will avail me in so far as that other's is acceptable to God, and in so far as God may be willing to let me have the use of that other's.
Now, there is a name infinitely acceptable to God, a name which He is altogether willing that we should make use of in coming to Him— the name of His own Son.
But the difficulty is to get us to consent to forego the use of our own name, and to employ this other. This is one of the hardest things in the world; yet it is on this that our eternity hinges. So long as I persist in standing before God in my own name, I am a rejected man. The moment I consent to make use of the name of Christ, that moment I am accepted, and I am dealt with according to the value and worth of the name on which I have now taken my stand in all my dealings with God. And this is peace! It is such a peace as no amount of conscious unworthiness in me can ever disturb; for it is peace
springing from another's merit, and coming to me through another's name.
The Sinner's Plea
"In thy name shall they rejoice all the day."—PSALM 89:16.
IT is this name—the name of Him who is full of grace and truth—that is the beginning as well as the ending of a sinner's confidence and joy. To go to God with this one name as my plea, is all I need to secure a large and loving answer.
Why, then, am I hesitating? Whence so many doubts? How is there so little confidence in this heart of mine, when I bow the knee before the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ? It is because I falter in pronouncing the name He loves so well, and delights to honour so much. If I doubt or distrust, it must be because I have not fully understood the infinite value of the name, and God's willingness to give effect to that name in the case of every sinner who will but consent to employ it as a substitute for his own. So that as soon as I learn the value of this name, and consent to exchange it for my own, I become "accepted in the Beloved," and cannot but rejoice in that name. My joy comes from what I have found in that name. I have found in it a substitute for my own. I have found in it a well of holy love. And because of these things "I rejoice all the day." When I begin to exchange that name for my own again, immediately doubting and disquietude ensue. But so long as I set aside my own, and employ that name alone, my joy abounds, and my feet stand immoveably on the rock which no storm can shake.
True Peace
"The word which God sent unto the children of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ."—ACTS 10:36
IN order to have peace to my spirit I must either forget God, or falsify His character, or be reconciled to Him through the blood of the cross.
The first of these ways can never be fully carried out, for nothing can, ever wholly banish from my thoughts the remembrance of the God that made me. The second of these ways will only lead me down to hell with a lie in my right hand, by making me believe that God is indifferent to sin. The third is the only way of permanent, perfect peace.
In being brought nigh to God, I have peace; for that which marred it was my distance from Him. In being reconciled (righteously reconciled) I have peace, for that which kept me from having it was the variance between Him and me. This distance has been removed, this variance adjusted, by the sin-bearing work of His Son. Over that work the great controversy has been settled for ever; and a friendship never to be broken has commenced between us. This friendship is the very life of my life, the health of my countenance, the joy of my joys.
With God for my friend, I pass through life in peace. He is all to me, and in fellowship with Him I find a joy which overshadows all that the world calls by that name. With God for my friend, neither weakness, nor the grave, nor the judgment, can alarm my soul. All is well!
Will Thinking Well of Myself Save Me?
"The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank thee that I am not as other men are."—LUKE 18:11
IF in dealing with God I do or say aught for the purpose of having a better opinion of myself, or of inducing God to form a better opinion of me, and to deal with me on a better footing than that of a mere sinner, I am a Pharisee, whether I go to the corners of the streets or not.
Yet how often have I prayed and confessed sin from this very motive, or at least with this object in view! I have prayed myself into good terms with my own conscience, and when I have confessed sin, I have thought that surely God must now have a more favourable opinion of me, and deal more gently with me!
Alas! and is this all that the Gospel has taught me? Have I not learned from it that there can be but one opinion of my case and character, viz., that I am a total sinner? And has it not taught me that the very worst opinion I can form of myself cannot be too bad; and yet that the worst opinion that God can have of me shall be no hindrance to His grace or my welcome, provided I am content to take the sinner's place and receive the sinner's welcome? This is the very essence and meaning of the Gospel. What more can I desire? What more could God hold out to me? And if all this suffice not to give me confidence, then nothing else will do it, and Christ has died in vain.
Confidence Towards God
"We are the circumcision, who worship God in the spirit, and rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the flesh."— PHIL. 3:3
IT is not because of character that I, a sinner, can find favour in the eyes of God. Such is my character, even at its best, that I can found on it no plea of acceptance. I may labour hard to mend and meliorate it; yet after all, I find myself a sinner still; and being so, my character cannot justify me; nor can it in the very least contribute aught towards my justification.
I do not expect anything from God on account of what I am, or feel, or do. Granting that my character is a good one, still it is not so good as that God can shew me favour on account of it. I must therefore set it aside. I cannot act upon it, or ask God to act upon it.
Yet, while my character however good cannot help me, still however bad it cannot hinder me, nor prevent my being received by God. What is good in me (if such there be) does not make me better than a sinner; and what is bad does not make me worse. So that, whatever I be, I must still meet God just as a sinner. And as such He is willing to meet me; as such He is willing to receive and bless me. The only condition He makes is, that I shall come to Him as I am; making no secret of my sins, nor pretending to be—what I am not, and never can be here—less than a sinner.
The Justifying Thing
"The righteousness of God which is by faith of Jesus Christ unto all and upon all them that believe: for there is no difference."— ROM. 3:22
IT is not on account of faith that we are justified, as if by our act of believing we persuaded God to take us into favour, or as if there were aught of recommendatory or meritorious excellence in our faith; it is by or through faith that we are justified; that is, by means of the justifying object with which our faith connects us.
That justifying object is the righteousness of God's incarnate Son. The doing and the suffering of this righteous One, this Divine Substitute, are the objects or things, in being identified with which we are at once forgiven and accepted. That which identifies us with these is our faith.
Thus, in the matter of justification we are simply receivers, not givers, nor workers. God presents to us the righteousness of His Son, telling us that He is willing to deal with us on the footing of that righteousness, and that we are welcome to use it in coming to Him, just as if it were our own. We take Him at His word, consent to be dealt with in this way, and employ the righteousness precisely as if it were our own. This is believing; thus it is that we are "justified by faith;" and thus it is that we are filled "with all joy and peace IN believing, that we may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost." (Rom. 15:13.)
The Justifying One
"That He might be just, and the justifier of him who believeth in Jesus." "It is God that justifieth."—ROM. 3:26, 8:33
HE who has the right to condemn is the only one who has the right to justify. Only the Lawgiver can remit the penalty of the law, and say to the transgressor, "Thou art justified from all things." And He has declared His purpose of doing so; nay, He has sent His Son to carry
that purpose into effect, by "bearing our sins in His own body on the tree," that so God might be as just in forgiving as in condemning.
It is God that justifieth! This assures us that justification is a certain thing, a thing which admits of no doubt, and of which there can be no reversal. The sentence of acquittal from His lips is decisive and final. Our Judge and our Justifier are one.
And who are they whom He justifies? The "ungodly." "To him that worketh not, but believeth on Him that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted for righteousness." (Rom. 4:5.) It is not the good, or the humble, or the penitent, or the prayerful, but the ungodly, that He justifies; and then, being thus justified freely by His grace, they become good and humble and penitent, and prayerful and holy.
Oh, folly without an equal to wait till we are godly in order to be justified! Oh, the strange ignorance of the justifying work of the Divine Substitute, to suppose that we need anything to qualify us for that work, but our utter ungodliness!
The King in His Beauty
"Thou art fairer than the children of men; grace is poured into thy lips; therefore God hath blessed thee for ever."—PSALM 45:2
THE world is fair and bright. It has dazzled and ensnared millions. Yet there is such a thing as a new-found Saviour, eclipsing and outshining all earthly beauty, in the eyes even of those who once admired it most.