← catalogue

The Great Commission. Miscellaneous Writings of C. H. Mackintosh, vol. IV

by Charles Henry Mackintosh · English · Gutenberg #40575 · 662,710 chars · public domain (US)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Great Commission. Miscellaneous Writings of C. H. Mackintosh, vol. IV
    
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: The Great Commission. Miscellaneous Writings of C. H. Mackintosh, vol. IV

Author: Charles Henry Mackintosh


        
Release date: August 24, 2012 [eBook #40575]
                Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40575

Credits: Produced by Júlio Reis, Moisés S. Gomes, Julia Neufeld and
        the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
        http://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREAT COMMISSION. MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS OF C. H. MACKINTOSH, VOL. IV ***

  MISCELLANEOUS
  WRITINGS

  of C.H.M.

  The Great
  Commission

  _Miscellaneous Writings of_
  C. H. MACKINTOSH

  _Volume IV_

  LOIZEAUX BROTHERS
  _New York_




CONVERSION: WHAT IS IT?




PART I.


The first chapter of first Thessalonians presents a very striking and
beautiful picture of what we may truly call _genuine conversion_. We
propose to study the picture in company with the reader. If we are not
much mistaken, we shall find the study at once interesting and
profitable. It will furnish an answer, distinct and clear, to the
question which stands at the head of this article, namely, What is
Conversion?

Nor is this by any means a small matter. It is well, in days like
these, to have a divine answer to such a question. We hear a good deal
now-a-days about cases of conversion; and we would heartily bless God
for every soul truly converted to Him.

We need hardly say we believe in the absolute, the indispensable, the
universal necessity of divine conversion. Let a man be what he may; be
he Jew or Greek, barbarian, Scythian, bond or free, Protestant or
Roman Catholic; in short, whatever be his nationality, his
ecclesiastical position, or his theological creed, he _must_ be
converted, else he is on the broad and direct road to an everlasting
hell.

There is no one born a Christian, in the true sense of that word.
Neither can anyone be educated into Christianity. It is a fatal
mistake, a deadly delusion, a deceit of the arch-enemy of souls, for
anyone to think that he can be a Christian either by birth or
education, or that he can be made a Christian by water baptism, or by
any religious ceremony whatsoever. A man becomes a Christian only by
being divinely converted. We would earnestly press on the attention of
all whom it may concern, the urgent and absolute necessity in every
case of true conversion to God.

This cannot be overlooked. It is the height of folly for anyone to
attempt to ignore or to make light of it. For an immortal being--one
who has a boundless eternity stretching away before him--to neglect
the solemn question of his conversion, is the wildest fatuity of which
anyone can possibly be guilty. In comparison with this most weighty
subject, all other things dwindle into utter insignificance. The
various objects that engage the thoughts and absorb the energies of
men and women in the busy scene around us, are but as the small dust
of the balance in comparison with this one grand, momentous question
of the soul's conversion to God. All the speculations of commercial
life, all the schemes of money-making, the absorbing question of
profitable investment, all the pursuits of the pleasure hunter--the
theatre, the concert, the ball-room, the billiard-room, the
card-table, the dice-box, the race-course, the hunting-ground, the
drinking saloon--all the numberless and nameless things that the poor
unsatisfied heart longs after, and grasps at--all are but as the
vapor of the morning, the foam on the water, the smoke from the
chimney-top, the withered leaf of autumn--all vanish away, and leave
an aching void behind. The heart remains unsatisfied, the soul
unsaved, because unconverted.

And what then? Ah, yes; what then! Tremendous question! What remains
at the end of all this scene of commercial excitement, political
strife and ambition, money-making and pleasure-hunting? Why, then the
man has to face death! "It is appointed unto men once to die." There
is no getting over this. There is no discharge in this war. All the
wealth of the universe could not purchase one moment's respite at the
hand of the ruthless foe. All the medical skill which earth affords,
all the fond solicitude of affectionate relatives and friends, all
their tears, all their sighs, all their entreaties cannot stave off
the dreaded moment, or cause the king of terrors to sheathe his
terrible sword. Death cannot be disposed of by any art of man. The
moment _must_ come when the link is to be snapped which connects the
heart with all the fair and fascinating scenes of human life. Fondly
loved friends, charming pursuits, coveted objects, all must be given
up. A thousand worlds could not avert the stroke. Death must be looked
at straight in the face. It is an awful mystery--a tremendous fact--a
stern reality. It stands full in front of every unconverted man,
woman, and child beneath the canopy of heaven; and it is merely a
question of time--hours, days, months, or years,--when the boundary
line must be crossed which separates time, with all its empty, vain,
shadowy pursuits, from eternity with all its stupendous realities.

And what then? Let Scripture answer. Nothing else can. Men would fain
reply according to their own vain notions. They would have us believe
that after death comes annihilation. "Let us eat and drink, for
to-morrow we die." Empty conceit! Vain delusion! Foolish dream of the
human imagination blinded by the god of this world! How could an
immortal soul be annihilated? Man, in the garden of Eden, became the
possessor of a never-dying spirit. "The Lord God breathed into his
nostrils the breath of life, and man became a _living_ soul"--not a
dying soul. The soul must live forever. Converted or unconverted, it
has eternity before it. Oh, the overpowering weight of this
consideration to every thoughtful spirit! No human mind can grasp its
immensity. It is beyond our comprehension, but not beyond our belief.

Let us hearken to the voice of God. What does Scripture teach? One
line of holy Scripture is quite sufficient to sweep away ten thousand
arguments and theories of the human mind. Does death annihilate? Nay!
"It is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment."

Mark these words, "_After this_ the judgment." And this applies only
to those who die in their sins, only to unbelievers. For the
Christian, judgment is passed forever, as Scripture teaches in
manifold places. It is important to note this, because men tell us
that, inasmuch as there is eternal life only in Christ, therefore all
who are out of Christ shall be annihilated.

Not so says the word of God. There is judgment after death. And what
will be the issue of the judgment? Again Scripture speaks in language
as clear as it is solemn. "And I saw a great white throne, and Him
that sat on it, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away;
and there was found no place for them. And I saw the dead, small and
great, stand before God; and the books were opened; and another book,
which is the book of life; and the dead were judged out of those
things which were written in the books, _according to their works_.
And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hades
delivered up the dead which were in them; and _they were judged every
man according to their works_.... This is the second death"--the lake
of fire. "And whosoever was not found written in the book of life was
cast into the lake of fire" (Rev. xx.)

All this is as plain as words can make it. There is not the slightest
ground for demur or difficulty. For all whose names are in the book of
life there is no judgment at all. Those whose names are not in that
book shall be judged according to their works. And what then?
Annihilation? Nay; but "the lake of fire;" and that forever and
forever.

How overwhelming is the thought of this! An unconverted person,
whoever and whatever he is, has death, judgment, and the lake of fire
before him, and every throb of his pulse brings him nearer and nearer
to those awful realities. It is not more sure that the sun shall rise,
at a certain moment, to-morrow morning, than that the reader must, ere
long, pass into eternity; and if his name is not in the book of
life--if he is not converted--if he is not in Christ, he will
assuredly be judged according to his works, and the certain issue of
that judgment will be the lake of fire, through the endless ages of
eternity.

The reader may perhaps marvel at our dwelling at such length on this
dreadful theme. He may feel disposed to ask, "Will this convert
people?" If it does not convert them, it may lead them to see their
need of conversion. It may lead them to see their imminent danger. It
may induce them to flee from the wrath to come. Why did the blessed
apostle reason with Felix on the subject of "judgment to come"? Surely
that he might persuade him to turn from his evil ways and live. Why
did our blessed Lord Himself so constantly press upon His hearers the
solemn reality of eternity? Why did He so often speak of the deathless
worm and the unquenchable fire? Surely it was for the purpose of
rousing them to a sense of their danger, that they might flee for
refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before them.

Are we wiser than He? Are we more tender? Have we found out some
better mode of converting people? Are we to be afraid of pressing upon
our readers or our hearers the same solemn theme which our Lord so
pressed upon the men of His time? Are we to shrink from offending
polite ears by the plain declaration that all who die unconverted must
inevitably stand before the great white throne, and pass into the lake
of fire? God forbid! It must not be. We solemnly call upon the
unconverted reader to give his undivided attention to the
all-important question of his soul's salvation. Let nothing induce him
to neglect it. Let neither cares, pleasures, nor duties so occupy him
as to hide from his view the magnitude and deep seriousness of this
matter. "What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world
and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his
soul?"

O reader, if thou art unsaved, unconverted, let us earnestly entreat
thee to ponder these things, and rouse thee to a sense of thy need of
being savingly converted to God. This is the only way of entering His
kingdom. So our Lord Christ distinctly tells us; and we trust you know
this at least, that not one jot or tittle of His holy sayings can ever
pass away. Heaven and earth shall pass away; but His word can never
pass away. All the power of earth and hell, men and devils, cannot
make void the words of our Lord Jesus Christ. Either of two things for
thee--_conversion here, or eternal damnation hereafter_.

Thus it stands, if we are to be guided by the word of God; and, in
view of this, is it possible for us to be too earnest, too vehement,
too importunate in urging upon every unconverted soul with whom we
may come in contact, either with voice or pen, the indispensable
necessity, this very moment, of fleeing from the wrath to come,
fleeing to that blessed Saviour who died on the cross for our
salvation; who stands with open arms to receive all who come; and who
declares in His own sweet and precious grace, "HIM THAT COMETH UNTO
ME, I WILL IN NO WISE CAST OUT?"




PART II.


In our previous paper, we have sought to set forth the absolute need,
in every case, of conversion. Scripture establishes this point in such
a way as to leave no possible ground of doubt for anyone who bows to
its holy authority. "Except ye be converted, and become as little
children, ye shall not enter into the Kingdom of heaven" (Matt. xviii.
3).

This applies, in all its moral force and deep solemnity, to every son
and daughter of fallen Adam. There is not so much as a solitary
exception, throughout the thousand millions that people this globe.
Without conversion, there is--there can be no entrance into the
Kingdom of God. Every unconverted soul is outside the Kingdom of God.
It matters not, in the smallest degree, who I am, or what I am; if I
am unconverted, I am in "the kingdom of darkness," under the power of
Satan, in my sins, and on the way to hell.

I may be a person of blameless morals; of spotless reputation; a high
professor of religion; a worker in the vineyard; a Sunday-school
teacher; an office-bearer in some branch of the professing church; an
ordained minister; a deacon, elder, pastor or bishop; a most
charitable individual; a munificent donor to religious and benevolent
institutions; looked up to, sought after, and reverenced by all
because of my personal worth and moral influence. I may be all this
and more; I may be, and I may have, all that it is possible for a
human being to be or to have, and yet be unconverted, and hence
outside the Kingdom of God, and in the kingdom of Satan, in my guilt,
and on the broad road that leads straight down to the lake that burns
with fire and brimstone.

Such is the plain and obvious meaning and force of our Lord's words in
Matt. xviii. 3. There is no possibility of evading it. The words are
as clear as a sunbeam. We cannot get over them. They bear down, with
what we may truly call tremendous solemnity, upon every unconverted
soul on the face of the earth. "Except ye be converted, ye _cannot_
enter the Kingdom of heaven." This applies, with equal force, to the
degraded drunkard that rolls along the street, worse than a beast, and
to the unconverted Good Templar or teetotaler who prides himself on
his sobriety, and is perpetually boasting of the number of days,
weeks, months, or years during which he has refrained from all
intoxicating drink. They are both alike outside the Kingdom of God;
both in their sins; both on the way to eternal destruction.

True it is that the one has been converted from drunkenness to
sobriety--a _very great_ blessing indeed, in a moral and social point
of view--but conversion from drunkenness to a temperance society is
not conversion to God; it is not turning from darkness to light; it is
not entering the Kingdom of God's dear Son. There is just this
difference between the two, that the teetotaler may be building upon
his temperance, pluming himself upon his morality, and thus deceiving
himself into the vain notion that he is all right, whereas, in
reality, he is not. The drunkard is palpably and unmistakably wrong.
Everybody knows that no drunkard can inherit the Kingdom of God; but
neither can an unconverted teetotaler. Both are outside. Conversion to
God is absolutely indispensable for the one as well as the other; and
the same may be said of all classes, all grades, all shades, all
castes and conditions of men under the sun. There is no difference as
to this great question. It holds good as to all alike, be their
outward character or social status what it may--"Except ye be
converted, _ye cannot_ enter the Kingdom of heaven."

How important, then--yea, how momentous the question for each one,
"_Am I converted?_" It is not possible for human language to set forth
the magnitude and solemnity of this inquiry. For any one to think of
going on, from day to day, and year to year, without a clear and
thorough settlement of this most weighty question, can only be
regarded as the most egregious folly of which a human being can be
guilty. If a man were to leave his earthly affairs in an uncertain,
unsettled condition, he would lay himself open to the charge of the
grossest and most culpable neglect and carelessness. But what are the
most urgent and weighty temporal affairs when compared with the
salvation of the soul? All the concerns of time are but as the chaff
of the summer threshing-floor, when compared with the interests of
the immortal soul--the grand realities of eternity.

Hence it is, in the very highest degree, irrational for any one to
rest for a single hour without a clear and settled assurance that he
is truly converted to God. A converted soul has crossed the boundary
line that separates the saved from the unsaved--the children of light
from the children of darkness--the Church of God from this present
evil world. The converted soul has death and judgment behind him, and
glory before. He can be as sure of heaven as though he were already
there; indeed as a man in Christ he belongs there already. He has a
title without a blot, a prospect without a cloud. He knows Christ as
his Saviour and Lord; God as his Father and Friend; the Holy Ghost as
his blessed Comforter, Guide and Teacher; heaven as his bright and
happy home. Oh! the unspeakable blessedness of being converted. Who
can utter it? "Eye hath not seen, or ear heard, neither have entered
into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them
that love Him. But God hath revealed them unto us [believers] by His
Spirit; for the Spirit searcheth all things, yea the deep things of
God" (1 Cor. ii. 9, 10).

And now let us inquire what this conversion is, whereof we speak.
Well, indeed, will it be for us to be divinely instructed as to this.
An error here will prove disastrous in proportion to the interests at
stake.

Many are the mistaken notions in reference to conversion. Indeed we
might conclude, from the very fact of the vast importance of the
subject, that the great enemy of our souls and of the Christ of God
would seek, in every possible way, to plunge us into error respecting
it. If he cannot succeed in keeping people in utter carelessness as to
the subject of conversion, he will endeavour to blind their eyes as to
its true nature. If, for example, a person has been roused, by some
means or other, to a sense of the utter vanity and unsatisfactoriness
of worldly amusements, and the urgent necessity of a change of life,
the arch-deceiver will seek to persuade such an one to become
religious, to busy himself with ordinances, rites and ceremonies, to
give up balls and parties, theatres and concerts, drinking, gambling,
hunting and horse-racing; in a word, to give up all sorts of gaiety
and amusement, and engage in what is called a religious life, to be
diligent in attending the public ordinances of religion, to read the
Bible, say prayers, and give alms, to contribute to the support of the
great religious and benevolent institutions of the country.

Now, this is not conversion. A person may do all this, and yet be
wholly unconverted. A religious devotee whose whole life is spent in
vigils, fastings, prayers, self-mortifications and alms deeds, may be
as thoroughly unconverted, as far from the Kingdom of God as the
thoughtless pleasure hunter, whose whole life is spent in the pursuit
of objects as worthless as the withered leaf or the faded flower. The
two characters, no doubt, differ widely--as widely perhaps, as any
two could differ. But they are both unconverted, both outside the
blessed circle of God's salvation, both in their sins. True, the one
is engaged in "wicked works," and the other in "dead works;" they are
both out of Christ; they are unsaved; they are on the way to hopeless,
endless misery. The one, just as surely as the other, if not savingly
converted, will find his portion in the lake that burneth with fire
and brimstone.

Again, conversion is not a turning from one religious system to
another. A man may turn from Judaism, Paganism, Mahometanism, or
Popery, to Protestantism, and yet be wholly unconverted. No doubt,
looked at from a social, moral, or intellectual standpoint, it is much
better to be a Protestant than a Mahometan; but as regards our present
thesis, they are both on one common platform, both unconverted. Of
one, just as truly as the other, it can be said, unless he is
converted, he cannot enter the Kingdom of God. Conversion is not
joining a religious system, be that system ever so pure, ever so
sound, ever so orthodox. A man may be a member of the most respectable
religious body in Christendom, and yet be an unconverted, unsaved man,
on his way to eternal perdition.

So also as to the theological creeds. A man may subscribe to any of
the great standards of religious belief, the Thirty-nine Articles, the
Westminster Confession, John Wesley's Sermons, Fox and Barclay, or any
other creed, and yet be wholly unconverted, dead in trespasses and
sins, and on his way to that place where a single ray of hope can
never break in upon the awful gloom of eternity.

Of what use, we may lawfully inquire, is a religious system or a
theological creed to a man who has not a single spark of divine life?
Systems and creeds cannot quicken, cannot save, cannot give eternal
life. A man may work on in religious machinery like a horse in a mill,
going round and round, from one year's end to another, leaving off
just where he began, in a dreary monotony of dead works. What is it
all worth? what does it all come to? where does it all end? _Death!_
Yes; and what then? Ah! that is the question. Would to God the weight
and seriousness of this question were more fully realized!

But further, Christianity itself, in all its full-orbed light, may be
embraced as a system of religious belief. A person may be
intellectually delighted--almost entranced with the glorious doctrines
of grace, a full, free gospel, salvation without works, justification
by faith; in short, all that goes to make up our glorious New
Testament Christianity. A person may profess to believe and delight in
this; he may even become a powerful writer in defence of Christian
doctrine, an earnest eloquent preacher of the gospel. All this may be
true, and yet the man be wholly unconverted, dead in trespasses and
sins, hardened, deceived and destroyed by his very familiarity with
the precious truths of the gospel--truths that have never gone beyond
the region of his understanding--never reached his conscience, never
touched his heart, never converted his soul.

This is about the most appalling case of all. Nothing can be more
awful, more terrible, than the case of a man professing to believe and
delight in, yea, actually preaching the gospel of God, and teaching
all the grand characteristic truths of Christianity, and yet wholly
unconverted, unsaved, and on his way to an eternity of ineffable
misery--misery which must needs be intensified to the very highest
degree, by the remembrance of the fact that he once professed to
believe, and actually undertook to preach the most glorious tidings
that ever fell on mortal ears.

O! reader, whoever thou art, do, we entreat of thee, give thy fixed
attention to these things. Rest not, for one hour, until thou art
assured of thy genuine, unmistakable conversion to God.




PART III.


Having thus far seen the absolute necessity, in every case, of
conversion, and having, in some measure, sought to point out what
conversion is _not_, we have now to inquire what it _is_. And here we
must keep close to the veritable teaching of holy Scripture. We can
accept nothing less, nothing different. It is greatly to be feared
that very much of what passes, now-a-days, for conversion is not
conversion at all. Many so-called cases of conversion are published
and talked of, which cannot stand the test of the word of God. Many
profess to be converted, and are accredited as such, who prove to be
merely stony-ground hearers. There is no depth of spiritual work in
the heart, no real action of the truth of God on the conscience, no
thorough breaking with the world. It may be the feelings are wrought
upon by human influence, and certain evangelical sentiments take
possession of the mind; but _self_ is not judged; there is a clinging
to earth and nature; a lack of that deep-toned earnestness and genuine
reality which so remarkably characterize the conversions recorded in
the New Testament, and for which we may always look where the work of
conversion is divine. We do not here attempt to account for all these
superficial cases; we merely refer to them in order that all who are
engaged in the blessed work of evangelization may be led to consider
the matter in the light of holy Scripture, and to see how far their
own mode of working may call for holy correction. It may be there is
too much of the merely human element in our work. We do not leave the
Spirit of God to act. We are deficient in faith, in the power and
efficacy of the simple work of Christ itself. There may be too much
effort to work on the feelings, too much of the emotional and the
sensational. Perhaps, too, in our desire to reach results--a desire
which may be right enough in itself--we are too ready to accredit and
announce, as cases of conversion, many which, alas! are merely
ephemeral.

Will this lessen our earnestness? The very reverse; it will intensify
our earnestness immensely. We shall be more earnest in pleading with
God in secret, and in pleading with our fellows in public.

We shall feel more deeply the divine seriousness of the work, and our
own utter insufficiency. We shall ever cherish the wholesome
conviction that the work must be of God from first to last. This will
keep us in our right place, that of self-emptied dependence upon God,
who is the Doer of all the works that are done upon the earth. We
shall be more on our faces before the mercy-seat, both in the closet
and in the assembly, in reference to the glorious work of conversion;
and then, when the golden sheaves and mellow clusters appear, when
genuine cases of conversion turn up--cases which speak for themselves,
and carry their own credentials with them to all who are capable of
judging--then verily shall our hearts be filled with praise to the God
of all grace who has magnified the name of His Son Jesus Christ in the
salvation of precious souls.

How much better is this than to have our poor hearts puffed up with
pride and self-complacency by reckoning up our cases of conversion!
How much better, safer and happier to be bowed in worship before the
throne, than to have our names heralded to the ends of the earth as
great preachers and wonderful evangelists! No comparison, in the
judgment of a truly spiritual person. The dignity, reality, and
seriousness of the work will be realized; the happiness, the moral
security, and the real usefulness of the workman will be promoted; and
the glory of God secured and maintained.

Let us see how all this is illustrated in 1 Thessalonians i. "Paul,
and Silvanus, and Timotheus, unto the assembly of the Thessalonians in
God the Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ: grace be unto you, and
peace from God our Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ. We give thanks
to God always for you all, making mention of you in our prayers;
remembering without ceasing your work of _faith_ and labor of _love_,
and patience of _hope_"--the grand elements of true Christianity--"in
our Lord Jesus Christ, in the sight of God and our Father; knowing,
brethren, beloved of God, your election." How did he know it? By the
clear and unquestionable evidence afforded in their practical
life--the only way in which the election of any one can be known. "For
our gospel came not unto you in word only, but also _in power_, and in
the Holy Ghost, and in much assurance; _as ye know what manner of men
we were among you for your sake_."

The blessed apostle was, in his daily life, the exponent of the gospel
which he preached. He _lived_ the gospel. He did not demand or exact
aught of them. He was not burdensome to them. He preached unto them
the precious gospel of God freely; and in order that he might do so,
he wrought with labor and travail, night and day. He was as a loving,
tender nurse, going in and out among them. There were with him no
high-sounding words about himself, or his office, or his authority, or
his gifts, or his preaching, or his wonderful doings in other places.
He was the loving, lowly, unpretending, earnest, devoted workman,
whose work spoke for itself, and whose whole life, his spirit, style,
deportment, and habits, were in lovely harmony with his preaching.

How needful for all workmen to ponder these things! We may depend upon
it that very much of the shallowness of our work is the fruit of the
shallowness of the workman. Where is the power? Where is the
demonstration of the Spirit? Where is the "much assurance?" Is there
not a terrible lack of these things in our preaching? There may be a
vast amount of fluent talking; a great deal of so-called cleverness;
and much that may tickle the ear, act on the imagination, awaken a
temporary interest, and minister to mere curiosity. But oh! where is
the holy unction, the living earnestness, the profound seriousness?
And then the living exponent in the daily life and habits--where is
this? May the Lord revive His work in the hearts of His workmen, and
then we may look for more of the results of the work.

Do we mean to teach that the work of conversion depends upon the
workman? Far away be the monstrous notion! The work depends wholly and
absolutely on the power of the Holy Ghost, as the very chapter now
lying open before us proves beyond all question. It must ever hold
good, in every department and every stage of the work, that it is "not
by might nor by power; but by My Spirit, saith the Lord."

But what kind of instrument does the Spirit ordinarily use? Is not
this a weighty question for us workmen? What sort of vessels are "meet
for the Master's use?" Empty vessels--clean vessels. Are we such? Are
we emptied of ourselves? Are we cured of our deplorable
self-occupation? Are we "clean?" Have we clean hands? Are our
associations, our ways, our circumstances, clean? If not, how can the
Master use us in His holy service? May we all have grace to weigh
these questions in the divine presence! May the Lord stir us all up,
and make us more and more vessels such as He can use for His glory!

We shall now proceed with our quotation. The whole passage is full of
power. The character of the workman on the one hand, and of the work
on the other, demands our most serious attention.

"And ye became followers of us, and of the Lord, having received the
word in much affliction, with joy of the Holy Ghost: so that ye were
ensamples [or models] to all that believe in Macedonia and Achaia.
For from you sounded out the word of the Lord, not only in Macedonia
and Achaia, but also in every place your faith to Godward is spread
abroad; so that we need not to speak anything, for they themselves
show of us what manner of entering in we had unto you."

This was real work. It carried its own credentials with it. There was
nothing vague or unsatisfactory about it--no occasion for any reserve
in forming or expressing a judgment respecting it. It was clear,
distinct, and unmistakable. It bore the stamp of the Master's hand,
and carried conviction to every mind capable of weighing the evidence.
The work of conversion was wrought, and the fruits of conversion
followed in delightful profusion. The testimony went forth far and
wide, so that the workman had no need to speak about his work. There
was no occasion for him to reckon up and publish the number of
conversions at Thessalonica. All was divinely real. It was a thorough
work of God's Spirit as to which there could be no possible mistake,
and about which it was superfluous to speak.

The apostle had simply preached the Word in the power of the Holy
Ghost, in much assurance. There was nothing vague, nothing doubtful
about his testimony. He preached as one who fully believed and
thoroughly entered into what he was preaching about. It was not the
mere fluent utterance of certain known and acknowledged truths--not
the cut and dry statement of certain barren dogmas. No; it was the
living outpouring of the glorious gospel of God, coming from a heart
that felt profoundly every utterance, and falling upon hearts prepared
by God's Spirit for its reception.

Such was the work at Thessalonica--a blessed divine work--all real,
the genuine fruit of God's Spirit. It was no mere religious
excitement, nothing sensational, no high pressure, no attempt to "get
up a revival." All was beautifully calm. The workman, as we are told
in Acts xvii., "came to Thessalonica, where was a synagogue of the
Jews; and as his manner was, he went in unto them, and three sabbath
days reasoned with them out of the Scriptures"--Precious, powerful
reasoning! would to God we had more of it in our midst!--"opening and
alleging that Christ must needs have suffered, and risen again from
the dead, and that this Jesus, whom I preach unto you, is Christ."

How simple! Preaching Jesus out of the Scriptures! Yes, here lay the
grand secret of Paul's preaching. He preached a living Person, in
living power, on the authority of a living Word, and this preaching
was received in living faith, and brought forth living fruit, in the
lives of the converts. This is the preaching that God has ordained and
uses. It is not sermonizing, not religious talk, but the preaching of
Christ by the Holy Ghost speaking through men who are themselves under
the power of what they are preaching. God grant us more of this!




PART IV.


The last two verses of our chapter (1 Thess. i.) demand our very
special attention. They furnish a remarkable statement of the real
nature of conversion. They show, very distinctly, the depth,
clearness, fulness, and reality of the work of God's Spirit in those
Thessalonian converts. There was no mistaking it. It carried its own
credentials with it. It was no uncertain work. It did not call for any
careful examination ere it could be accredited. It was a manifest,
unmistakable work of God, the fruits of which were apparent to all.
"They themselves shew of us what manner of entering in we had unto
you, and how _ye turned to God from idols_, to serve the living and
true God; and to wait for His Son from heaven, whom He raised from the
dead, Jesus, who delivered us from the wrath to come" (vers. 9, 10).

Here, then, we have a divine definition of conversion--brief, but
comprehensive. It is a turning _from_, and a turning _to_. They turned
from idols. There was a complete break with the past, a turning of the
back, once and forever, on their former life and habits; a thorough
surrender of all those objects that had ruled their hearts and
commanded their energies. Those dear Thessalonians were led to judge,
in the light of divine truth, their whole previous course, and not
only to judge it, but to abandon it unreservedly. It was no
half-and-half work. There was nothing vague or equivocal about it. It
was a marked epoch in their history--a grand turning-point in their
moral and practical career. It was not a mere change of opinion, or
the reception of a new set of principles, a certain alteration in
their intellectual views. It was far more than any or all of these
things. It was the solemn discovery that their whole past career had
been one great, dark, monstrous lie. It was the real heart conviction
of this. Divine light had broken in upon their souls, and in the power
of that light they judged themselves and the entire of their previous
history. There was an out-and-out surrender of that world which had
hitherto ruled their hearts' affections; not a shred of it was to be
spared.

And what, we may ask, produced this marvelous change? Simply the word
of God brought home to their souls in the mighty power of the Holy
Ghost. We have referred to the inspired account of the apostle's visit
to Thessalonica. We are told that "he reasoned with them out of the
Scriptures." He sought to bring their souls into direct contact with
the living and eternal word of God. There was no effort to act on
their feelings and imagination. All this the blessed workman judged to
be utterly valueless. He had no confidence whatever in it. His
confidence was in the word and Spirit of God. He assures the
Thessalonians of this very thing in the most touching manner, in chap.
ii. of his epistle. "For this cause," he says, "thank we God without
ceasing, because, when ye received the word of God which ye heard of
us, ye received it _not as the word of men_, but, as it is in truth,
_the word of God_, which effectually worketh also in you that
believe."

This is what we may call a vital and cardinal point. The word of God,
and that alone, in the mighty hand of the Holy Ghost, produced these
grand results in the case of the Thessalonians, which filled the heart
of the beloved apostle with unfeigned thanksgiving to God. He rejoiced
that they were not linked on to him, but to the living God Himself, by
means of His word. This is an imperishable link. It is as enduring as
the Word which forms it. The word of man is as perishable as himself;
but the word of the Lord endureth forever. The apostle, as a true
workman, understood and felt all this, and hence his holy jealousy, in
all his ministry, lest the souls to whom he preached should, in any
way, lean upon him instead of on the One whose messenger and minister
he was.

Hear what he says to the Corinthians: "And I, brethren, when I came
unto you, came not with excellency of speech or of wisdom, declaring
unto you _the testimony of God_. For I determined not to know anything
among you, save Jesus Christ, and Him crucified. And I was with you in
weakness, and in fear, and in much trembling. And my speech and my
preaching was not with enticing words of man's wisdom, but _in
demonstration of the Spirit_ and of power; that your faith should not
stand in the wisdom of men, but _in the power of God_" (1 Cor. ii.
1-5).

Here we have true ministry--"the testimony of God," and "the
demonstration of the Spirit"--the Word and the Holy Ghost. Nothing
else is of any value. All mere human influence, human power, and the
results produced by human wisdom or energy, are perfectly
worthless--yea, positively mischievous. The workman is puffed up by
the apparent results of his work paraded and talked of, and the poor
souls that are acted upon by this false influence are deceived, and
led into an utterly false position and false profession. In a word,
the whole thing is disastrous in the extreme.

Not so when the word of God, in its mighty moral power, and the energy
of the Holy Ghost, are brought to bear on the heart and conscience.
Then it is we see divine results, as in the case of the Thessalonians.
Then indeed it is made apparent, beyond all question, who is the
workman. It is not Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, but God Himself, whose
work accredits itself, and shall stand forever; all homage to His holy
name! The apostle had no need to reckon up and publish the results of
his work at Thessalonica, or rather God's work by his means. It spoke
for itself. It was genuine. It bore, with unmistakable distinctness,
the stamp of God upon it, and this was quite enough for Paul; and it
is quite enough for every true-hearted, self-emptied workman. Paul
preached the Word, and that Word was brought home, in the quickening
energy of the Holy Ghost, to the hearts of the Thessalonians. It fell
into good ground, took root, and brought forth fruit in abundance.

And let us mark the fruit. "_Ye turned from idols._" Here we have, in
one word, the whole life of every unconverted man, woman, or child on
the face of the earth. It is all wrapped up and presented to our view
in the one expression, "_idols_." It is not by any means necessary to
bow down to a stock or a stone in order to be an idolater. Whatever
commands the heart is an idol; the yielding of the heart to that thing
is idolatry, and the one who so yields it is an idolater. Such is the
plain, solemn truth in this matter, however unpalatable it may be to
the proud human heart. Take that one great, crying, universal sin of
"covetousness." What does the inspired apostle call it? He calls it
"idolatry." How many hearts are commanded by money! How many
worshipers bow down before the idol of gold! What is covetousness?
Either a desire to get more, or the love of what we have. We have both
forms in the New Testament. The Greek has a word to represent both.
But whether it be the desire to grasp, or the desire to hoard, in
either case it is idolatry.

And yet the two things may be very unlike in their outward
development. The former, that is, the desire to get more, may often be
found in connection with a readiness to spend; the latter, on the
contrary, is generally linked with an intense spirit of hoarding.
There, for example, is a man of great business capacity--a thorough
commercial genius--in whose hand everything seems to prosper. He has a
real zest for business, an unquenchable thirst for making money. His
one object is to get more, to add thousand to thousand, to strengthen
his commercial foundation, and enlarge his sphere. He lives, thrives,
and revels in the atmosphere of commerce. He started on his career
with a few pence in his pocket, and he has risen to the proud position
of a merchant prince. He is not a miser. He is as ready to scatter as
to obtain. He fares sumptuously, entertains with a splendid
hospitality, gives munificently to manifold public objects. He is
looked up to and respected by all classes of society.

But he loves to get more. He is a covetous man--an idolater. True, he
despises the poor miser who spends his nights over his money-bags,
"holding strange communion with his gold;" delighting his heart and
feasting his eyes with the very sight of the fascinating dust,
refusing himself and his family the common necessaries of life; going
about in rags and wretchedness, rather than spend a penny of the
precious hoard; who loves money, not for what it can get or give, but
simply for its own sake; who loves to accumulate, not that he may
spend, but that he may hoard; whose one ruling desire is to die worth
so much wretched dust--strange, contemptible desire!

Now these two are apparently very different, but they meet in one
point; they stand on one common platform; they are both covetous, and
they are both idolaters.[1] This may sound harsh and severe, but it
is the truth of God, and we must bow down before its holy authority.
True it is that nothing is apparently more difficult to bring home to
the conscience than the sin of covetousness--that very sin which the
Holy Ghost declares to be idolatry. Thousands might see it in the case
of the poor degraded miser, who nevertheless would be shocked by its
application to a merchant prince. It is one thing to see it in others,
and quite another to judge it in ourselves. The fact is, that nothing
but the light of the word of God shining in upon the soul, and
penetrating every chamber of our moral being, can enable us to detect
the hateful sin of covetousness. The pursuit of gain--the desire to
have more--the spirit of commerce--the ability to make money--the
desire to get on--all this is so "highly esteemed amongst men," that
very few, comparatively, are prepared to see that it is positively "an
abomination in the sight of God." The natural heart is formed by the
thoughts of men. It loves, adores and worships the objects that it
finds in this world; and each heart has its own idol. One worships
gold, another worships pleasure, another worships power. Every
unconverted man is an idolater; and even converted men are not beyond
the reach of idolatrous influences, as is evident from the warning
note raised by the venerable apostle, "Little children, keep
yourselves from idols" (1 John v. 21).

  [1] The two Greek words to which we have alluded in the text are,
  πλεονεξια (pleonexia--the desire to get more), and
  φιλαργυρια (philarguria--the love of money). Now it is the
  former that occurs in Col. iii. 5--"Covetousness, which is idolatry;"
  and there it stands in the terrible category with some of the very vilest
  sins that stain the pages of human history.

Reader, will you permit us to put a plain, pointed question to you,
ere we proceed further? Are you converted? Do you profess to be so? Do
you take the ground of being a Christian? If so, have you turned from
idols? Have you really broken with the world, and with your former
self? Has the living word of God entered your heart, and led you to
judge the whole of your past life, whether it has been a life of
gayety and thoughtless folly, a life of busy money-making, a life of
abominable vice and wickedness, or a life of mere religious
routine--Christless, faithless, worthless religion?

Say, dear friend, how is it? Be thoroughly in earnest. Be assured
there is an urgent demand for out-and-out earnestness in this matter.
We cannot hide from you the fact that we are painfully conscious of
the sad lack of thorough decision amongst us. We have not, with
sufficient emphasis or distinctness, "turned from idols." Old habits
are retained; former lusts and objects rule the heart. The temper,
style, spirit and deportment do not bespeak conversion. We are sadly
too like our former selves--too like the openly and confessedly
worldly people around us.

All this is really terrible. We fear it is a sad hindrance to the
progress of the gospel and the salvation of souls. The testimony falls
powerless on the ears of those to whom we speak, because we do not
seem as though we ourselves really believe what we are talking about.
The apostle could not say to us, as he said to his dear Thessalonian
converts, "From you sounded out the word of the Lord ... so that we
need not to speak anything." There is a want of depth, power and
markedness in our conversion. The change is not sufficiently apparent.
Even where there is a work, there is a tameness, feebleness and
vagueness about it truly deplorable and discouraging.

But more of this in our next, if the Lord will.




PART V.


We are now called to consider what we may term the positive side of
the great subject of conversion. We have seen that it is a turning
_from_ idols--a turning from all those objects which ruled our hearts
and engaged our affections--the vanities and follies, the lusts and
pleasures which made up the whole of our existence in the days of our
darkness and blindness. It is, as we read in Acts xxvi. 18, a turning
_from_ darkness, and from the power of Satan; and, as we read in Gal.
i. 4, a turning _from_ this present evil world.

But conversion is much more than all this. It would, in one sense, be
but a poor thing if it were merely a turning "_from_ sin, the world,
and Satan." No doubt it is a signal mercy to be delivered, once and
forever, from all the wretchedness and moral degradation of our former
life; from the terrible thraldom of the god and prince of this world;
from all the hollowness and vanity of a world that lieth in the arms
of the wicked one; and from the love and practice of sin--the vile
affections which once held sway over us. We cannot be too thankful for
all that is included in this side of the question.

But, we repeat, there is very much more than this. The heart may feel
disposed to inquire, "What have we gotten in lieu of all we have given
up? Is Christianity merely a system of negations? If we have broken
with the world and self--if we have given up our former pleasures and
amusements--if, in short, we have turned our back upon what goes to
make up life in this world, what have we instead?"

1 Thessalonians i. 9 furnishes, in one word, the answer to all these
inquiries--an answer full, clear, distinct, and comprehensive. Here it
is--"Ye turned to GOD."

Precious answer! Yes, unspeakably precious to all who know aught of
its meaning. What have I got instead of my former "idols?" God!
Instead of this world's vain and sinful pleasures? God! Instead of its
riches, honors, and distinctions? God! Oh, blessed, glorious, perfect
Substitute! What had the prodigal instead of the rags of the far
country? The best robe in the Father's house! Instead of the swine's
husks? The fatted calf of the Father's providing! Instead of the
degrading servitude of the far country? The Father's welcome, his
bosom, and his table!

Reader, is not this a blessed exchange? Have we not, in the familiar,
but ever charming history of the prodigal a most touching and
impressive illustration of true conversion in both its sides? May we
not well exclaim, as we gaze on the inimitable picture, "What a
conversion! What a turning from and turning to!" Who can utter it?
What human tongue can adequately set forth the feelings of the
returned wanderer when pressed to the Father's bosom and bathed in the
light and love of the Father's house? The rags, the husks, the swine,
the slavery, the cold selfishness, the destitution, the famine, the
misery, the moral degradation--all gone, and gone forever; and instead
thereof the ineffable delight of that bright and happy home, and,
above all, the exquisite feeling that all that festive joy which
surrounded him was wakened up by the very fact of his return--that it
made the Father glad to get him back!

But we shall, perhaps, be told that all this is but a figure. Yes; but
a figure of what? Of a precious, a divine reality; a figure of what
takes place in every instance of true conversion, if only it be looked
at from a heavenly standpoint. It is not a mere surrender of the
world, with its thousand and one vanities and follies. It is this, no
doubt; but it is very much more. It is being brought to God, _brought
home_, brought to the Father's bosom, brought into the family;
made--not in the language of a barren formulary, but in the power of
the Spirit, and by the mighty action of the Word--a child of God, a
member of Christ, and an heir of the kingdom.

This, and nothing less, is conversion. Let the reader see that he
thoroughly understands it. Let him not be satisfied with anything
short of this grand reality--this turning from darkness to light, from
the power of Satan, and from the worship of idols, to God. The
Christian is, in one sense, as really brought to God now as if he were
actually in heaven. This may seem strong, but it is blessedly true.
Hear what the apostle Peter says as to this point: "Christ hath once
suffered for sins, the Just for the unjust, to bring us to"--what?
Heaven when we die? Nay; but "to bring us to God" _now_. So, also, in
Rom. v. we read, "For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to
God by the death of His Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be
saved by His life! And not only so, but we also _joy in God_, through
our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom we have now received the
reconciliation."

This is an immense principle. It is not within the compass of human
language to set forth all that is involved in being "turned," or
"brought to God." Our adorable Lord Jesus Christ brings all who
believe in His name into God's presence, in all His own perfect
acceptability. They come in all the credit, and virtue, and value of
the blood of Jesus, and in all the fragrance of His most excellent
name. He brings us into the very same position with Himself. He links
us with Himself, and shares with us all He has, and all He is, save
His Deity, which is incommunicable. We are perfectly identified with
Him. "Yet a little while, and the world seeth Me no more; but ye see
Me; _because I live, ye shall live also_." Again, "Peace I leave with
you, _my peace I give unto you_; not as the world giveth, give I unto
you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." "These
things have I spoken unto you, that _my joy might remain in you_, and
that your joy might be full." "Henceforth I call you not servants, for
the servant knoweth not what his lord doeth; but I have called you
friends, for _all things that I have heard of my Father I have made
known unto you._"

So, also, in that marvelous prayer in John xvii., we read, "I have
given unto them the words which Thou gavest Me; and they have received
them, and have known surely that I came out from Thee, and they have
believed that Thou didst send Me. I pray for them; I pray not for the
world, but for them which Thou hast given Me; for they are Thine. And
all Mine are Thine, and Thine are Mine, and I am glorified in them."
"I have given them Thy word; and the world hath hated them, because
_they are not of the world, even as I am not of the world." "As Thou
hast sent Me into the world, even so have I also sent them into the
world." "And the glory which Thou gavest Me I have given them; that
they may be one, even as We are one_: I in them, and Thou in Me, that
they may be made perfect in one; and that the world may know that Thou
hast sent Me, _and hast loved them as Thou hast loved Me_. Father, _I
will that they also whom Thou hast given Me be with Me where I am_;
that they may behold My glory which Thou hast given Me; for thou
lovedst Me before the foundation of the world. O righteous Father, the
world hath not known Thee, but I have known Thee, and these have known
that Thou hast sent Me. And I have declared unto them Thy name, and
will declare it; that _the love wherewith Thou hast loved Me may be in
them, and I in them_."

Now it is utterly impossible to conceive anything higher or more
blessed than this. To be so thoroughly identified with the Son of God,
to be so wholly one with Him as to share in the very same love
wherewith He is loved by the Father, to partake of His peace, His joy,
His glory--all this involves the very highest possible measure and
character of blessing with which any creature could be endowed. To be
saved from the everlasting horrors of the pit of hell; to be pardoned,
washed, and justified; to be reinstated in all that Adam lost; to be
let into heaven on any ground or in any character whatsoever, would be
marvelous mercy, goodness, and loving-kindness; but to be brought to
God in all the love and favor of His own beloved Son, to be intimately
associated with Him in all His position before God--His acceptability
now--His glory by and by--this, truly, is something which only the
heart of God could think of, and only His mighty power accomplish.

Well, reader, all this is involved in the conversion whereof we speak.
Such is the magnificent grace of God, such the love wherewith He loved
us, even when we were dead in trespasses and sins, enemies in our
minds by wicked works, serving divers lusts and pleasures, worshiping
idols, the blind, degraded slaves of sin and Satan, children of wrath,
and going straight to hell.

And the best of it all is, that it both glorifies the name and
gratifies the heart of God to bring us into this place of
inconceivable blessedness, love, and glory. It would not satisfy the
love of His heart to give us any lower place than that of His own Son.
Well might the inspired apostle exclaim, in view of all this
stupendous grace, "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ, who hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in heavenly
places in Christ; according as He hath chosen us in Him before the
foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame
before Him in love; having predestinated us unto the adoption of
children by Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the good pleasure of
His will, _to the praise of the glory of His grace, wherein He hath
made us accepted in the Beloved_, in whom we have redemption through
His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His
grace" (Eph. i.).

What depth of love, what fulness of blessing, have we here! It is the
purpose of God to glorify Himself, throughout the countless ages of
eternity, in His dealings with us. He will display, in view of all
created intelligences, the riches of His grace, in His kindness toward
us, by Christ Jesus. Our forgiveness, our justification, our perfect
deliverance, our acceptance--all the blessings bestowed upon us in
Christ--are for the display of the divine glory throughout the vast
universe forever. It would not meet the claims of God's glory, or
answer the affections of His heart, to have us in any other position
but that of His own well-beloved and only begotten Son.

All this is marvelous. It seems too good to be true. But it is worthy
of God, and it is His good pleasure so to act toward us. This is
enough for us. It may be, and most assuredly is, too good for us to
get, but it is not too good for God to give. He acts toward us
according to the love of His heart, and on the ground of the
worthiness of Christ. The prodigal might ask to be made as one of the
hired servants, but this could not be. It would not be according to
the Father's heart to have him in the house as a servant. It must be
as a son or not at all. If it were a question of desert, we do not
deserve the place of a servant any more than that of a son. But,
blessed be God, it is not according to our deserts at all, but
according to the boundless love of His heart, and to the glory of His
holy name.

This, then, is conversion. Thus we are _brought to God_. Nothing short
of this. We are not merely turned from our idols, whatever they were,
but we are actually brought into the very presence of God, to find our
delight in Him, to joy in Him, to walk with Him, to find all our
springs in Him, to draw upon His exhaustless resources, to find in Him
a perfect answer to all our necessities, so that our souls are
satisfied, and that forever.

Do we want to go back to the idols? Never! Have we any hankering after
our former objects? Not if our hearts are realizing our place and
portion in Christ. Had the prodigal any longings after the husks and
the swine when folded in the father's bosom, clothed in the father's
house, and seated at the father's table? We do not, and cannot,
believe it. We cannot imagine his heaving a single sigh after the far
country when once he found himself within the hallowed circle of that
bright and blissful home of love.

We speak according to the divine standard. Alas! alas! many profess to
be converted, and seem to go on for a season; but ere long they begin
to grow cold, and get weary and dissatisfied. The work was not real.
They were not really brought to God. Idols may have been given up for
a time, but God Himself was never reached. They never found in Him a
satisfying portion for their hearts--never knew the real meaning of
communion with Him--never tasted heart-satisfaction, heart-rest, in
Christ. Hence, in process of time, the poor heart began to long once
more for the world, and back they went, and plunged into its follies
and vanities with greater avidity than ever.

Such cases are very sad, very disappointing. They bring great reproach
on the cause of Christ, and are used as a plea for the enemy, and as a
stumbling-block for anxious inquirers. But they leave the question of
divine conversion just where it was. The soul that is truly converted
is one who has not merely been turned from this present evil world,
and all its promises and pretensions, but who has been led by the
precious ministry of the Holy Ghost to find in the living God, and in
His Son Jesus Christ, all he can possibly want for time and eternity.
Such an one has divinely done with the world. He has broken with it
forever. He has had his eyes opened to see, through and through, the
whole thing. He has judged it in the light of the presence of God. He
has measured it by the standard of the cross of Christ. He has weighed
it in the balances of the sanctuary, and turned his back upon it
forever, to find an absorbing and a commanding object in the Person of
that blessed One who was nailed to the accursed tree, in order to
deliver him, not only from everlasting burnings, but also from this
present evil world.




PART VI.


The more we dwell on 1 Thess. i. 9, the more we are struck with its
marvelous depth, fulness, and power. It seems like sinking a shaft
into an inexhaustible mine. We have dwelt a little on that very
fruitful and suggestive clause, "_Turned to God from idols_." How much
is wrapped up in it! Do we really understand the force and fulness of
it? It is a wonderful thing for the soul to be brought to God--to know
Him now as our resource in all our weakness and need--the spring of
all our joys--our strength and shield--our Guide and Counsellor--our
all in all--to be absolutely and completely shut up to Him, wholly
dependent upon Him.

Reader, do you know the deep blessedness of all this in your own soul?
If you are a child of God, a truly converted soul, then it is your
happy privilege to know it, and you ought not to be satisfied without
it. If we are "turned to God," what is it for but to find in Him all
we can possibly want for time and eternity? Nothing can ever satisfy
the human soul but God Himself. It is not within the compass of earth
to meet the cravings of the heart. If we had the wealth of the
universe, and all that that wealth could procure, the heart would
still want more; there would still be an aching void which nothing
under the sun could fill.

Look at the history of Solomon. Hear him recording his own experience.
"I, the preacher, was king over Israel in Jerusalem; and I gave my
heart to seek and search out by wisdom concerning all things that are
done under heaven; this sore travail hath God given to the sons of men
to be exercised therewith. I have seen all the works that are done
under the sun, and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit. That
which is crooked cannot be made straight, and that which is wanting
cannot be numbered. I communed with mine own heart, saying, Lo, I am
come to great estate, and have gotten more wisdom than all they that
have been before me in Jerusalem; yea, my heart had great experience
of wisdom and knowledge. And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to
know madness and folly. I perceived that this also is vexation of
spirit. For in much wisdom is much grief, and he that increaseth
knowledge increaseth sorrow. I said in my heart, Go to, now, I will
prove thee with mirth; therefore enjoy pleasure; and behold, this also
is vanity. I said of laughter, it is mad, and of mirth, what doeth it?
I sought in my heart to give myself to wine, yet acquainting my heart
with wisdom, and to lay hold on folly, till I might see what was that
good for the sons of men, which they should do under the heaven all
the days of their life. I made me great works; I builded me houses; I
planted me vineyards; I made me gardens and orchards, and I planted
trees in them of all kind of fruits; I made me pools of water, to
water there with the wood that bringeth forth trees. I got me servants
and maidens, and had servants born in my house; also, I had great
possessions of great and small cattle, above all that were in
Jerusalem before me. I gathered me also silver and gold, and the
peculiar treasure of kings and of the provinces; I gat me men singers
and women singers, and the delights of the sons of men, as musical
instruments, and that of all sorts. So I was great, and increased more
than all that were before me in Jerusalem; also, my wisdom remained
with me. And whatsoever mine eyes desired I kept not from them; I
withheld not my heart from any joy; for my heart rejoiced in all my
labor; and this was my portion of all my labor. Then I looked on all
the works that my hands had wrought, and on the labor that I had
labored to do; and behold, _all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and
there was no profit under the sun_" (Eccle. i., ii.).

Such is the withering commentary upon all earth's resources as given
by the pen of one who had all that earth could give--of one who was
allowed to drain to the very dregs every cup of human and earthly
pleasure. And what was it all? "Vanity and vexation of spirit." "All
things are full of labor; man cannot utter it; the eye is not
satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing." The poor
human heart can never be satisfied with the resources of earth.
Creature streams can never quench the thirst of the immortal soul.
Material things cannot possibly make us truly happy, even if they were
permanent. "All is vanity and vexation of spirit."

The truth of this must be proved by every human heart. Sooner or later
all must find it out. Men may turn a deaf ear to it now; they may
refuse to listen to the Spirit's warning voice; they may vainly
imagine that this poor world can yield them substantial comfort and
happiness; they may eagerly grasp at its riches, its honors, its
distinctions, its pleasures, its material comforts; but they will find
out their mistake. And oh, how dreadful to find it out _too late_! How
terrible to open one's eyes in hell, like the rich man in the parable!
What human language can set forth the horrors of a soul shut out
forever from the presence of God, and consigned to outer darkness, to
the place of weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth? It is
overwhelming to think of it. What will it be to realize it? What will
it be to find oneself in the tormenting flames of hell, at the other
side of that impassable gulf where a single ray of hope can never
break through the deep gloom of eternity?

Oh that men would think of all this in time! that they might flee from
the wrath to come, and lay hold on the blessed hope set before them in
the gospel; that they might "turn to God." But alas! the god of this
world blinds their minds, lest the light of the gospel of the glory of
Christ, who is the image of God, should shine into them. He engrosses
them with present things--business, money-making, pleasures, cares,
lusts, anything and everything but the one thing, in comparison with
which all earthly things are but as the small dust of the balance.

But we have digressed from our special theme, to which we must return.

We are particularly anxious to press upon the Christian reader the
immense importance of seeking to find all his resources in the living
God. We have only for a moment turned aside from this point, in order
to sound a warning note in the ear of any unconverted, careless one
who may happen to take up this paper. We earnestly entreat the latter
to turn to God. We entreat the former to seek a deeper acquaintance
with the One to whom, by grace, he has turned. We have the two things
before us in penning these papers on the great subject of
"conversion." We can truly say, we long to see precious souls
converted to God, and we long to see converted souls happy in God.

We are increasingly convinced of the practical importance of
Christians proving in their daily life that they have found thorough
rest of heart in God. It has immense weight with worldly people. It is
a grand point gained when we are able, through grace, to tell the
world that we are independent of it; and the only way to do this is to
live in the abiding sense of what we have in God. This would impart a
moral elevation to our entire course and character. It would deliver
us completely from that strong tendency to lean on human props and to
betake ourselves to creature streams which we have all more or less to
lament, and which must assuredly issue in disappointment to us and
dishonor to God.

How prone we are on all occasions to look to our fellow-men for
sympathy, succor and counsel instead of looking directly and
exclusively to God! This is a serious mistake. It is in principle to
forsake the Fountain of living waters, and hew out for ourselves
broken cisterns which can hold no water. What can we expect? What must
be the issue? Barrenness and desolation. Our God, in very faithfulness
to us, will cause our fellow-man to fail us, in order that we may
learn the folly of leaning upon an arm of flesh.

Hear what the prophet says on this great practical question: "Thus
saith the Lord, Cursed be the man that trusteth in man, and maketh
flesh his arm, and whose heart departeth from the Lord. For he shall
be like the heath in the desert, and shall not see when good cometh,
but shall inhabit the parched places in the wilderness, in a salt
land, and not inhabited."

But mark the contrast. "Blessed is the man that trusteth in the Lord,
and whose hope the Lord is. For he shall be as a tree planted by the
waters, and that spreadeth out her roots by the river, and shall not
see when heat cometh, but her leaf shall be green, and shall not be
careful in the year of drought, neither shall cease from yielding
fruit" (Jer. xvii.).

O reader, it is a grand reality to lean on the arm of the living
God--to find in Him our relief and our resource at all times, in all
places, and under all circumstances. He never fails a trusting heart.
He will never disappoint us. He may see fit to keep us waiting for an
answer to our call, but the time we spend in waiting is well spent,
and when the answer comes our hearts are filled with praise, and we
are able to say, "Oh, how great is Thy goodness, which Thou hast laid
up for them that fear Thee, which Thou hast wrought for them that
trust in Thee before the sons of men" (Psa. xxxi. 19).

It is a great thing to be able to trust God before the sons of men, to
confess His sufficiency for our every exigence. But it must be a
reality, and not mere profession. It is no use to talk of leaning on
God while at the same time we are, in one way or another, looking to
some poor mortal to help us. This is a sad delusion. But, alas! how
often we fall under its power! We adopt the language of dependence
upon God, but in reality we are looking to man, and letting him know
our wants. We deceive ourselves and dishonor God, and the end is
disappointment and confusion of face.

Reader, let us look closely and honestly at this matter. Let us see to
it that we understand the meaning of those precious words, "Turned to
God." They contain the very essence of true happiness and true
holiness. When the heart is really turned to God it has found the
true, the divine secret of peace, rest, and full satisfaction; it
finds its all in God, and has no occasion whatever to turn to the
creature. Am I in any perplexity? I can look to God for guidance. He
has promised to guide me with His eye. What perfect guidance! Can man
do better for me? Surely not. God sees the end from the beginning. He
knows all the bearings, all the belongings, all the roots and issues
of my case. He is an infallible guide. His wisdom is unerring, and,
moreover, He loves me perfectly. Where could I find a better guide?

Am I in want? I can go to God about it. He is the Possessor of heaven
and earth. The treasures of the universe are at His disposal. He can
help me if He sees it to be good for me; and if not, the pressure will
be much better for me than the relief. "My God shall supply all your
need, according to His riches in glory, by Christ Jesus." Is not this
enough? Why look to a creature stream? Why turn from such a God and go
with our wants to a human being? It is in reality giving up, so far,
the ground of faith, the life of simple dependence on God. It is
actually dishonoring our Father. If I apply to my fellow for help, it
is tantamount to saying that God has failed me. It is really betraying
my loving Father who has taken me up, body, soul and spirit, to do for
me for time and eternity. He has pledged Himself to provide for all my
wants, be they ever so many, ever so great, ever so varied. "He that
spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He
not, with Him, also _freely_ give us _all things_?" His word is, "Call
upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee, and thou shalt
glorify Me."

True, God uses the creature to meet our need; but this is a totally
different matter. The blessed apostle could say, "God who comforteth
those that are cast down, comforted us by the coming of Titus." Paul
was looking to God for comfort, and God sent Titus to comfort him. Had
Paul been looking to Titus, he would have been disappointed.

Thus it is in every case. Our immediate and exclusive reference must
be to God in all our need. "We have turned _to God_ from idols;" and
hence in every exigence He is our sure resource. We can go to Him for
counsel, for succor, for guidance, for sympathy, for all. "My soul,
wait thou _only_ upon God, for my expectation is from Him. He _only_
is my rock and my salvation; He is my defence; I shall not be moved."

Will this most blessed habit of looking only to God lead us to
undervalue the channels through which His precious grace flows to us?
The very reverse. How could I undervalue one who comes to me directly
from God, as His manifest instrument, to meet my need? Impossible. But
I value him as a channel, instead of applying to him as a source. This
makes all the difference. We must never forget that true conversion
means our being brought to God; and most surely, if we are brought to
God, it is in order that we should find in Him a perfect covering for
our eyes, a perfect object for the heart, a perfect resource in all
our exigencies, from first to last. A truly converted soul is one who
is turned from all creature confidences, human hopes, and earthly
expectations, to find all he wants in the living and true God, and
that forever.




PART VII.


We are now called to consider a deeply practical point in our subject.
It is contained in the clause, "_To serve the living and true God_."
This is full of interest to every truly converted soul, every true
Christian. We are called "to serve." Our whole life, from the moment
of our conversion to the close of our earthly career, should be
characterized by a spirit of true, earnest, intelligent service. This
is our high privilege, not to say our hallowed duty. It matters not
what our sphere of action may be, what our line of life, or what our
calling; when we are converted, we have just got one thing to do,
namely, to serve God. If there be anything in our calling which is
contrary to the revealed will of God--contrary to the direct teaching
of His word--then we must at once abandon it, cost what it may. The
very first step of an obedient servant is to step out of a false
position, be it what it may.

We are called to serve God, and everything must be tried by this
standard. The Christian has to ask himself this one question, "Can I
fulfil the duties of this situation to the glory of God?" If not, he
must abandon it. If we cannot connect the name of God with our calling
in life, then, assuredly, if we want to walk with God, if we aim at
serving Him, if it be our one desire to be found well-pleasing in His
sight, then we must give up that calling and look to Him to open some
path for us in which we can walk to His praise.

This He will do, blessed be His name. He never fails a trusting soul.
All we have to do is to cleave to Him with purpose of heart, and He
will make the way plain before us. It may seem difficult at first. The
path may appear narrow, rough, lonely; but our simple business is to
stand for God, and not to continue for one hour in connection with
anything contrary to His revealed will. A tender conscience, a single
eye, a devoted heart, will settle many a question, solve many a
difficulty, remove many a barrier. Indeed, the very instincts of the
divine nature, if only they be allowed to act, will guide in many a
perplexity. "The light of the body is the eye; therefore, when thine
eye is single, thy whole body also is full of light." When the purpose
of the heart is true to Christ, true to His name and cause, true to
the service of God, the Holy Spirit opens up the precious treasures of
divine revelation to the soul, and pours a flood of living light upon
the understanding, so that we see the path of service as clear as a
sunbeam before us, and we have only got to tread it with a firm step.

But we must never, for one moment, lose sight of the grand fact that
we are converted to the service of God. The outcome of the life which
we possess must ever take the form of service to the living and true
God. In our unconverted days we worshiped idols, and served divers
lusts and pleasures; now, on the contrary, we worship God in the
Spirit, and we are called to serve Him with all our ransomed powers.
We have turned to God, to find in Him our perfect rest and
satisfaction. There is not a single thing in the entire range of a
creature's necessities, for time and eternity, that we cannot find in
our own most gracious God and Father. He has treasured up in Christ,
the Son of His love, all that can satisfy the desires of the new life
in us. It is our privilege to have Christ dwelling in our hearts by
faith, and to be so rooted and grounded in love as to be able to
comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth,
and height, and to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge,
that we may be filled with all the fulness of God.

Thus filled, satisfied and strengthened, we are called to dedicate
ourselves, spirit, soul and body, to the service of Christ; to be
steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord. We
should have nothing else to do in this world. Whatever cannot be done
as service to Christ ought not to be done at all. This simplifies the
matter amazingly. It is our sweet privilege to do everything in the
name of the Lord Jesus, and to the glory of God. We sometimes hear
people speak of "a secular calling," as contrasted with what is
"sacred." We question the correctness of such a distinction. Paul made
tents and planted churches, but in both he served the Lord Christ. All
that a Christian does ought to be sacred, because it is done as
service to God. If this were borne in mind, it would enable us to
connect the very simplest duties of daily life with the Lord Himself,
and to bring Him into them in such a way as to impart a holy dignity
and interest to all that we have to do, from morning till night. In
this way, instead of finding the duties of our calling a hindrance to
our communion with God, we should actually make them an occasion of
waiting on Him for wisdom and grace to discharge them aright, so that
His holy name might be glorified in the most minute details of
practical life.

The fact is that the service of God is a much simpler matter than some
of us imagine. It does not consist in doing some wonderful things
beyond the bounds of our divinely appointed sphere of action. Take the
case of a domestic servant. How can she serve the living and true God?
She cannot go about visiting and talking. Her sphere of action lies in
the shade and retirement of her master's house. Were she to run about
from house to house, she would be actually neglecting her proper work,
her divinely appointed business. Harken to the following sound and
wholesome words: "Exhort servants to be obedient unto their own
masters, and to please them well in all things; not answering again:
not purloining, but showing all good fidelity; that they may adorn the
doctrine of God our Saviour in all things" (Titus ii. 9, 10).

Here we see that the servant, by obedience, humility and honesty can
adorn the doctrine of God just as effectually, according to her
measure, as an evangelist ranging the world over in the discharge of
his high and holy commission.

Again, we read, "Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters
according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of your
heart, as unto Christ; not with eye-service as men-pleasers, but as
_the servants of Christ_, doing the will of God from the heart; with
good-will doing _service_, as to the Lord, and not to men; knowing
that whatsoever good thing any man doeth, the same shall he receive of
the Lord, whether he be bond or free" (Eph. vi.).

How lovely is all this! What a fine field of service is opened up for
us here! How beautiful this "fear and trembling!" Where do we see it
nowadays? Where is the holy subjection to authority? Where the
singleness of eye? Where the willing-hearted service? Alas! we see
headiness and high-mindedness, self-will, self-pleasing, and
self-interest. How must all these things dishonor the Lord, and grieve
His Holy Spirit! How needful that our souls should be roused to a
sense of what becomes us as those who are called to serve the living
and true God! Is it not a signal mercy to every true Christian to know
that he can serve and glorify God in the most commonplace domestic
duties? If it were not so, what would become of ninety-nine out of
every hundred Christians?

We have taken up the case of an ordinary domestic servant in order to
illustrate that special line of practical truth now under our
consideration. Is it not most blessed for us to know that our God
graciously condescends to connect His name and His glory with the very
humblest duties that can devolve upon us in our ordinary domestic
life? It is this which imparts dignity, interest and freshness to
every little act, from morning till night. "Whatsoever ye do, do it
_heartily_, as unto the Lord, and not unto men." Here lies the
precious secret of the whole matter. It is not working for wages, but
serving the Lord Christ, and looking to Him to receive the reward of
the inheritance.

Oh that all this were more fully realized and illustrated amongst us!
What moral elevation it would give to the entire Christian life! What
a triumphant answer it would furnish to the infidel! What a withering
rebuke to all his sneers and cavils! Better by far than ten thousand
learned arguments. There is no argument so forcible as an earnest,
devoted, holy, happy, self-sacrificing Christian life, and this life
can be displayed by one whose sphere of action is bounded by the four
walls of a kitchen.[2]

  [2] It is remarkable that both in Eph. vi. and Col. iii. the address
  to servants is far more elaborate than to any of the other classes. In
  Titus ii. servants are specially singled out. There is no address to
  husbands, none to masters, none to children. We do not attempt to
  account for this, but we cannot help noticing it as a very interesting
  fact; and most assuredly it teaches us what a very important place is
  assigned in Christianity to one who, in those early days of the
  Church's history, occupied the place of a slave. The Holy Ghost took
  special pains to instruct such an one as to how he was to carry
  himself in his most trying sphere of work. The poor slave might think
  himself shut out from the service of God. So far from this, he is
  sweetly taught that by simply doing his duty as in the sight of God he
  could adorn the doctrine of God his Saviour, and bring glory to the
  name of Jesus. Nothing can exceed the grace that shines in this.

And not only does the practical life of a true Christian afford the
very best possible answer to the skeptic and the infidel, but it also
meets in a most satisfactory manner the objections of those who talk
about works, and insist upon putting Christians under the law, in
order to teach them how to live. When people challenge us as to our
not preaching up works, we simply ask them, "For what should we preach
works?" The unconverted man cannot do any works, save "wicked works,"
or "dead works." "They that are in the flesh"--unconverted
people--"cannot please God." Of what possible use can it be to preach
works to such? It can only cast dust in their eyes, blind their minds,
deceive their hearts, and send them down to hell with a lie in their
right hand.

_There must be genuine conversion to God._ This is a divine work from
first to last. And what has the converted man got to do? He certainly
has not to work for life, because he has it, even life eternal, as
God's free gift, through Jesus Christ our Lord. He has not to work for
salvation, because he is saved already--"saved in the Lord with an
everlasting salvation." What, then, is he called to do? "To serve the
living and true God." How? When? Where? In everything; at all times,
and in all places. The converted man has nothing else to do but to
serve God. If he does anything else, he is positively untrue,
unfaithful to that blessed Lord and Master who, ere ever He called him
to serve, endowed him with the life, and the grace, and the power,
whereby alone the service can be rendered.

Yes, reader, the Christian is called to serve. Let us never forget
this. He is privileged to "present his body as a living sacrifice,
holy and acceptable to God, which is his reasonable (his intelligent)
service." This settles the whole question. It removes all
difficulties; it silences all objections; it puts everything in its
right place. It is not a question of what I am doing, but how I do
it--not where I am, but how I conduct myself. Christianity as
displayed in the New Testament is the outcome of the life of Christ in
the believer; it is Christ reproduced in the Christian's daily life,
by the power of the Holy Ghost. Everything the Christian touches,
everything he does, everything he says, his whole practical life, from
Lord's-day morning till Saturday night, should bear the impress and
breathe the spirit of that great practical clause on which we have
been dwelling--"serving the living and true God." May it be so more
and more! May all the Lord's beloved people, everywhere, be really
stirred up to seek more earnest, out-and-out, whole-hearted
devotedness to Christ and His precious service!




PART VIII


The last words of our chapter--1 Thess. i.--now claim our attention.
They furnish a very striking and forcible proof of the clearness,
fulness, depth and comprehensiveness of the apostle's testimony at
Thessalonica, and also of the brightness and reality of the work in
the young converts in that place. It was not only that they turned
from idols to God, to serve the living and true God. This, through
grace, they did; and that, too, with uncommon power, freshness, and
fervor.

But there was something more; and we may assert, with all possible
confidence, that there would have been a grand defect in the
conversion and in the Christianity of those beloved disciples if that
had been lacking. _They were converted "to wait for the Son of God
from the heavens."_

Let the reader give to this very weighty fact his most devout
attention. The bright and blessed hope of the Lord's coming formed an
integral part of the gospel which Paul preached, and of the
Christianity of those who were converted by his ministry. That blessed
servant preached a full gospel. He not only declared that the Son of
God had come into the world to accomplish the great work of
redemption, and lay the everlasting foundation of the divine glory and
counsels, but that He had gone back to the heavens, and taken His
seat as the victorious, exalted and glorified Man, at the right hand
of the throne of God; and that He is coming again; first, to receive
His people to Himself, and conduct them into the very innermost circle
of His Father's house--the place prepared for them: and then to come
forth _with_ them, to execute judgment upon His enemies--gather out of
His kingdom all that offend, and all that do iniquity, and set up His
glorious dominion from sea to sea, and from the river to the ends of
the earth.

All this was included in the precious gospel which Paul preached, and
which the Thessalonian converts received. We find an indirect but very
interesting intimation of this in a passage in Acts xvii., where the
inspired writer records what the infidel Jews thought and said about
the apostle's preaching. "But the Jews which believed not, moved with
envy, took unto them certain lewd fellows of the baser sort, and
gathered a company, and set all the city on an uproar, and assaulted
the house of Jason, and sought to bring them out to the people. And
when they found them not, they drew Jason and certain brethren unto
the rulers of the city, crying, _These that have turned the world
upside down_ are come hither also; whom Jason hath received; and these
all do contrary to the decrees of Cæsar, _saying that there is another
king, Jesus_."

Such were the ideas which these poor, ignorant, prejudiced unbelievers
gathered from the preaching of the Lord's beloved servants; and we can
see in them the elements of great and solemn truths--the complete
upturning of the present system of things, and the establishment of
the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. "I will
overturn, overturn, overturn it; and it shall be no more, until He
come whose right it is; and I will give it Him" (Ezek. xxi. 27).

But not only did the Lord's coming and kingdom occupy a prominent
place in the _preaching_ of the apostle, it also shines brilliantly
forth in all his _teaching_. Not only were the Thessalonians converted
to this blessed hope, they were built up, established and led on in
it. They were taught to live in the brightness of it every hour of the
day. It was not a dry, barren dogma, to be received and held as part
of a powerless, worthless creed; it was a living reality, a mighty
moral power in the soul--a precious, purifying, sanctifying, elevating
hope, detaching the heart completely from present things, and causing
it to look out, moment by moment--yes, reader, we repeat it with
emphasis, moment by moment--for the return of our beloved Lord and
Saviour Jesus Christ, who loved us, and gave Himself for us.

It is interesting to notice that in the two epistles to the
Thessalonians there is far more allusion to the Lord's coming than in
all the other epistles put together. This is all the more remarkable
inasmuch as they were the very earliest of Paul's epistles, and they
were written to an assembly very young in the faith.

If the reader will just glance rapidly through these two most precious
writings, he will find the hope of the Lord's return introduced in
every one of the eight chapters, and in connection with all sorts of
subjects. For example, in chap. i. we have it presented as the grand
object to be ever kept before the Christian's heart, let his position
or his relationship be what it may--the brilliant light shining at the
end of his long pilgrimage through this dark and toilsome world. "Ye
turned to God from idols, to serve the living and true God; and to
wait for"--what? The time of their death? No such thing, no allusion
to such a thing. Death, for the believer, is abolished, and is never
presented as the object of his hope. For what, then, were the
Thessalonian disciples taught to wait? "For God's Son from heaven,
whom He raised from the dead."

And then mark the beauteous addition! "Jesus, which delivered us from
the wrath to come." This is the Person for whom we are waiting; our
precious Saviour; our great Deliverer; the One who undertook our
desperate case; who took, on our behalf, the cup of wrath from the
hand of infinite Justice and exhausted it forever; who cleared the
prospect of every cloud, so that we can gaze upward into heaven, and
onward into eternity, and see nothing but the brightness and
blessedness of His own love and glory, as our happy home throughout
the everlasting ages.

Oh, beloved Christian reader, how blessed to be looking out, morning,
noon, eventide, and midnight, for the coming of our gracious
Deliverer! What a holy reality to be ever waiting for the return of
our own loving and beloved Saviour and Lord! How separating and
elevating, as we rise each morning to start on our daily course of
duty--whatever that duty may be, whether the scrubbing of a floor or
the preaching of the gospel--to cherish the bright and blessed hope
that, ere the shades of evening gather round us, we may be summoned to
ascend in the folds of the cloud of glory to meet our coming Lord!

Is this the dream of a wild fanatic or a visionary enthusiast? Nay, it
is an imperishable truth, resting on the very same foundation that
sustains the entire fabric of our most glorious Christianity. Is it
true that the Son of God has trod this earth of ours in the person of
Jesus of Nazareth? Is it true that He lived and labored here, amid the
sins and sorrows of poor, fallen humanity? Is it true that He sighed,
and wept, and groaned, under the sense of the widespread desolation
which sin had wrought in this world? Is it true that He went to the
cross, and there offered Himself without spot to God, in order to
vindicate the Divine Majesty; to answer all the claims of the throne
of God; to destroy all the works of the devil; to make a public show
of all the powers of hell; to put away sin by the sacrifice of
Himself; to bear the sins of all those who, from the beginning to the
end of time, should, through grace, believe in His name? Is it true
that He lay for three days and three nights in the heart of the
earth, and on the first day of the week rose triumphant from the
grave, as the Head of the new creation, and ascended into the heavens,
after He had been seen by at least five hundred witnesses? Is it true
that fifty days after His resurrection He sent down the Holy Ghost, in
order to fill and fit His apostles to be His witnesses to the ends of
the earth? Is it true that from the day of Pentecost to this very hour
He has been acting on His people's behalf as an Advocate with the
Father, a great High Priest with God; interceding for us in all our
failures, sins and shortcomings, and sympathizing with us in all our
infirmities and in all our sorrows; and presenting continually our
sacrifices of prayer and praise, in all the fragrance of His own
glorious Person?

Are all these things true? Yes, thank God, they are all divinely true,
all set forth in the pages of the New Testament, with most marvelous
fulness, clearness, depth, and power; all rest on the solid foundation
of Holy Scripture--a foundation which not all the powers of earth and
hell, men and devils, can ever touch.

Well, then, the blessed hope of the Lord's coming rests on precisely
the same authority. It is not more true that our Lord Jesus Christ lay
as a babe in the manger of Bethlehem, that He grew up to man's estate,
that He went about doing good, that He was nailed to the cross and
laid in the tomb, that He is now seated on the throne of the Majesty
in the heavens, than that He will come again to receive His people to
Himself. He may come to-night. No one can tell when He will come, but
at any moment He may come. The only thing that detains Him is His
long-suffering, not willing that any should perish, but that all
should come to repentance. For eighteen long centuries has He waited
in lingering love, mercy, and compassion; and during all that time
salvation has been ready to be revealed, and God has been ready to
judge; but He has waited, and He still waits, in long-suffering grace
and patience.

But He will come, and we should ever live in the hope of His coming.
Thus the apostle taught his beloved Thessalonians to live. Thus he
lived himself. The blessed hope was intimately bound up with all the
habits and feelings of his daily life. Was it a question of reaping
the fruit of his labors? Hear what he says: "For what is our hope, or
joy, or crown of rejoicing? Are not even ye, in the presence of our
Lord Jesus Christ, _at His coming_?" He would see them all then and
there. No enemy will be allowed to hinder that meeting. "We would have
come unto you, even I Paul, once and again, but Satan hindered us."
Very wonderful! Very mysterious! Yet so it was. Satan hindered an
angel of God in the discharge of his business in the days of Daniel;
and he hindered an apostle of Christ in the accomplishment of his
loving desire to see his brethren at Thessalonica. But, thanks be to
God, he will not be able to hinder the joyful meeting of Christ and
His saints for which we wait. What a moment that will be! What
precious reunions! What sweet recognitions! What affectionate
greetings of dear old friends! But, far above all, Himself! His smile!
His welcome! His soul-stirring "Well done!"

What a precious, soul-sustaining hope! Need we wonder at the prominent
place it occupied in the thoughts and the teachings of the blessed
apostle? He recurs to it on all occasions, and in connection with
every subject. Is it a question of progress in the divine life and
practical godliness? Thus he puts it: "And the Lord make you to
increase and abound in love one toward another, and toward all, even
as we do toward you; to the end He may establish your hearts
unblameable in holiness before God, even our Father, _at the coming of
our Lord Jesus Christ with all His saints_."

Let the reader specially mark the last clause of this touching and
beautiful quotation. "_With all His saints._" What admirable wisdom
shines here! The apostle was about to touch directly upon an error
into which the Thessalonian believers had fallen in reference to their
departed friends. They feared that those who had fallen asleep would
not participate in the joy of the Lord's coming. This error is
completely demolished by that brief sentence, "with _all_ His saints."
Not one will be absent from that joyous meeting, that festive scene.
Blessed assurance! Triumphant answer to all who would have us believe
that none will share the joy of our Lord's coming save those who see
this, that, and the other! "With _all_ his saints," spite of their
ignorance and their errors, their wanderings and their stumblings,
their shortcomings and their failures. Our blessed Saviour, the
everlasting Lover of our souls, will not shut any of us out at that
blissful moment.

Is all this matchless grace to make us careless? God forbid! Nay, it
is the abiding sense of it which alone can keep us alive to our holy
responsibility to judge everything in us and in our ways which is
contrary to the mind of Christ. And not only so, but the hope of our
Lord's return, if it be kept bright and fresh in the heart, _must_
purify, sanctify and elevate our entire character and course as
nothing else can. "Every man that hath this hope in him purifieth
himself, even as He is pure." It is morally impossible for any one to
_live_ in the hope of seeing his Lord at any moment and yet have his
heart set upon worldly things--upon money-making, self-indulgence,
pleasure, vanity, folly. Let us not deceive ourselves. If we are daily
looking out for the Son of God from heaven, we must sit loose to the
things of time and sense. We may hold the doctrine of the Lord's
coming as a mere dogma in the intellect; we may have the entire range
of prophetic truth mapped out before our mind's eye, without its
producing the smallest effect upon the heart, the character, or the
practical life. But it is another thing altogether to have the whole
moral being, the entire practical career, governed by the bright and
blessed hope of seeing the One who loveth us and hath washed us from
our sins in His own most precious blood.

Would there were more of this amongst us! It is to be feared that many
of us have lost the freshness and power of our true and proper hope.
The truth of the Lord's coming has become so familiar as a mere
doctrine that we can flippantly speak of it, and discuss various
points in connection with it, and argue with people about it, and all
the while our ways, our deportment, our spirit and temper give the lie
to what we profess to hold.

But we shall not pursue this sad and humbling side of the subject. May
the Lord look upon us, and graciously heal, restore and lift up our
souls! May He revive in the hearts of all His beloved people the
proper Christian hope--the hope of seeing the bright and Morning Star.
May the utterance of the whole heart and the utterance of the whole
life be, "Even so, come, Lord Jesus!"

Here we must close this paper. We had hoped to run through the two
epistles to the Thessalonians in company with our readers, in order to
prove and illustrate the statement that the hope of the Lord's return
was bound up in the heart of the apostle, with all the scenes,
circumstances and associations of Christian life. But we must allow
the reader to do this for himself. Sufficient, we trust, has been said
to show that true conversion, according to apostolic teaching, cannot
stop short of the blessed hope of the Lord's coming. A truly converted
person is one who has turned from idols--has broken with the
world--broken with his former self--turned to God, to find in Him all
he can possibly want for time and eternity, to serve Him, and Him
only--and, finally, "to wait for the Son of God from heaven." Such we
conceive to be the true and proper answer to the question, "What is
conversion?"

Reader, art _thou_ converted? If not, what then? If thou art, does thy
life declare it?




SIMON PETER:

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS




PART I.


We propose, in dependence upon the Spirit's guidance, to write a few
papers on the life and ministry of the blessed servant of Christ whose
name stands at the head of this paper. We shall trace him through the
Gospels, through the Acts, and through the Epistles, for he appears in
all the three grand divisions of the New Testament. We shall meditate
upon his call, upon his conversion, his confession, his fall, his
restoration; in a word, we shall glance at all the scenes and
circumstances of his remarkable history, in which we shall find, if we
mistake not, many valuable lessons which we may well ponder. May the
Lord the Spirit be our Guide and Teacher!

For the earliest notice of Simon Peter, we must turn to the first
chapter of the Gospel of John. Here we find, at the very outset, a
scene full of interest and instruction. Amongst those who had been
gathered by the powerful ministry of John the Baptist there were two
men who heard him deliver his glowing testimony to the Lamb of God. We
must quote the words: "Again the next day after John stood, and two of
his disciples; and looking upon Jesus as he walked, he saith, Behold
the Lamb of God."

These words fell with peculiar power upon the hearts of two of John's
disciples. Not that the words were specially addressed to them; at
least, we are not told so. But they were words of life, freshness, and
power--words welling up from the depths of a heart that had found an
object in the person of Christ. On the preceding day, John had spoken
of the work of Christ. "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the
sin of the world." And again, "The same is he which baptizeth with the
Holy Ghost."

But let the reader note particularly John's testimony to the _person_
of the Lamb of God. "John stood," riveted, no doubt, by the object
which filled the vision of his soul. "And looking upon Jesus, as he
walked, he said, Behold the Lamb of God." It was this that went right
to the very heart of the two disciples who stood beside him, and so
affected them that they left their master to follow this new and
infinitely more glorious Object that had been presented to their
notice.

There is always immense moral power in the testimony that emanates
from an absorbed heart. There is nothing formal, official, or
mechanical, in such testimony. It is the pure fruit of heart
communion; and there is nothing like it. It is not the mere statement
of true things about Christ. It is the heart occupied and satisfied
with Christ. It is the eye riveted, the heart fixed, the whole moral
being centred and absorbed in that one commanding object that fills
all heaven with His glory.

This is the kind of testimony we so much want both in our private life
and in our public reunions. It is this that tells, with such marvelous
power, on others. We never can speak effectively for Christ, unless
our hearts are filled with Him. And so it is also, in reference to our
meetings. When Christ is the one absorbing object of every heart,
there will be a tone and an atmosphere which must tell in some way or
other on all who enter the place. There may not be much gift, not much
teaching--very little charm in the singing, for persons of musical
taste; but oh! there is heart-enjoyment of Christ. His name is as
ointment poured forth. Every eye is fixed on Him; every heart is
centred in Him; He is the commanding object--the satisfying portion.
The unanimous voice of the assembly seems to say, "Behold the Lamb of
God," and this must produce its own powerful effect, either in
attracting souls to Him, or in convincing them that the people in that
assembly have gotten something of which they know nothing at all.

But let us note particularly the effect produced on the two disciples
of John. "They heard him speak and they followed Jesus. Then Jesus
turned, and saw them following, and saith unto them, What seek ye?
They said unto Him, Rabbi--which is to say, being interpreted,
Master--where dwellest thou? He saith unto them, Come and see. They
came and saw where He dwelt, and abode with Him that day; for it was
about the tenth hour." Thus the blessed testimony of the Baptist led
them to follow Jesus, and as they followed on, fresh light was poured
upon their path, and they found themselves, at length, in the very
abode of that One of whom they had heard their master speak.

Nor was this all, though it was much--with their own hearts' deepest
longings satisfied. There was now that delightful going out after
others which must, in every instance, be the result of close personal
acquaintance and occupation with the Person of Christ. "One of the two
which heard John, and followed Jesus, was Andrew, Simon Peter's
brother. He first findeth his own brother Simon, and saith unto him,
We have found the Messias, which is, being interpreted, the Christ.
And he brought him to Jesus."

Here is something which we may well ponder. See how the circle of
blessing widens! See the result of a single sentence uttered in truth
and reality! It might seem to a carnal observer as though John had
lost by his testimony. Far from it. That honored servant found his joy
in pointing souls to Jesus. He did not want to link them on to
himself, or to gather a party round himself. "John bare witness of
Him, and cried saying, This was He of whom I spake, He that cometh
after me is preferred before me." And again, "This is the record of
John, when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask
him, Who art thou? And he confessed, and denied not; but confessed, I
am not the Christ. And they ask him, What then? Art thou Elias? And he
saith, I am not. Art thou that prophet? And he answered, No. Then
said they unto him, Who art thou? that we may give an answer to them
that sent us. What sayest thou of thyself? He said, I am the voice of
one crying in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord, as
said the prophet Esaias. And they which were sent were of the
Pharisees." What a fine moral lesson for Pharisees to be set down to!
"And they asked him, and said unto him, Why baptizest thou then, if
thou be not that Christ, nor Elias, neither that prophet? John
answered them, saying, I baptize with water: but there standeth One
among you, whom ye know not. He it is, who coming after me is
preferred before me, whose shoe's latchet I am not worthy to unloose."

It is not very likely that the man who could give such answers, and
bear such a testimony, would be, in the smallest degree, affected by
the loss of a few disciples. But, in good truth it was not loosing
them when they followed Jesus and found their abode with Him. Of this
we have the very finest evidence that could be furnished, from John's
own lips, in reply to those who evidently thought that their master
might possibly feel at being left in the shade. "They came unto John,
and said unto him, Rabbi, He that was with thee beyond Jordan, to whom
thou barest witness, behold, the same baptizeth, and all come to Him.
John answered and said, _A man can receive nothing, except it be given
him from heaven_. Ye yourselves bear me witness, that I said, I am not
the Christ, but that I am sent before Him. He that hath the bride is
the bridegroom; but the friend of the bridegroom, which standeth and
heareth him, rejoiceth greatly because of the bridegroom's voice:
_this my joy therefore is fulfilled. He must increase, but I must
decrease_" (John iii. 26-30).

Noble words! It was the joy of this most illustrious servant--this
greatest of woman-born, to hide himself behind his Master, and find
all his personal springs in Him. As to himself, he was but a voice. As
to his work, he was only baptizing with water, he was not worthy to
loose the latchet of his Master's shoe.

Such was John. Such the man whose glowing testimony led the brother of
Simon Peter to the feet of the Son of God. The testimony was clear and
distinct, and the work deep and real in the souls of those who
received it.

It does the heart good to note the simple, earnest, forcible words of
Simon's brother, Andrew. He is able to say, without reserve or
hesitation, "_We have found_ the Messias." It was this that led him to
look after his brother. He lost no time. Saved and blessed himself, he
would, at once, begin to lead his brother into the same blessing.

How simple! How morally lovely! How divinely natural! No sooner had he
found the Messias, than he went in search of his brother to tell him
of his joy. It must ever be thus. We cannot doubt for a moment, that
the actual finding Christ for ourselves is the true secret of looking
after others. There is no uncertainty in Andrew's testimony--no
wavering--no doubting or fearing. He does not even say, "I hope I have
found." No; all is clear and distinct; and, we may say, with all
possible assurance, it would not have done Simon Peter much good had
it been anything else. An uncertain sound is not much use to any one.

It is a grand point to be able to say, "_I have found Christ_."
Reader, can you say it? Doubtless, you have heard of Him. It may be
you have heard from the lips of some ardent lover of Jesus, "Behold
the Lamb of God." But have you followed that blessed One? If so, you
will long to find some one to whom you can speak of your newly found
treasure, and bring him to Jesus. Begin at home. Get hold of your
brother, or your sister, or your companion, your fellow-student, your
fellow-shopman, your fellow-workman, your fellow-servant, and whisper
lovingly, but clearly and decidedly, into his ear, "I have found
Jesus. Do come, taste and see how gracious He is. Come! oh do come to
Jesus." Remember this was the way that the great apostle Peter was
first called. He first heard of Jesus from the lips of his own brother
Andrew. This mighty workman--this great preacher who was blessed, on
one occasion, to three thousand souls--who opened the Kingdom of
heaven to the Jew in Acts iii. and to the Gentile in Acts x.--this
blessed servant was brought to Christ by the hand of his own brother
in the flesh.




PART II.


The notice which we have of our apostle, in John i., is very brief
indeed, though, doubtless, there is much wrapped up in it. "Andrew
first findeth his own brother, Simon, and saith unto him, We have
found the Messias, which is, being interpreted, the Christ. And he
brought him to Jesus. And when Jesus beheld him, He said, Thou art
Simon, the son of Jonas: thou shalt be called Cephas, which is by
interpretation, A stone."

Now, we have no record here of any deep spiritual work in the soul of
Simon. We are told his name in the old creation, and his name in the
new; but there is no allusion whatever to those deep exercises of soul
of which we know he was the subject. For these we must ask the reader
to turn for a few moments to Luke v., where we have a marvelous piece
of divine workmanship.

"And it came to pass that, as the people pressed upon Him to hear the
word of God, He stood by the lake of Gennesaret, and saw two ships
standing by the lake; but the fishermen were gone out of them, and
were washing their nets. And He entered into one of the ships, which
was Simon's, and prayed him that he would thrust out a little from the
land. And He sat down, and taught the people out of the ship."

Mark especially the moral grace that shines here. "He _prayed_ him
that he would thrust out _a little_ from the land." Though Lord of all
creation--Possessor of heaven and earth--He nevertheless, as the
lowly, gracious Man, courteously owns Simon's proprietorship, and
asks, as a favor, that he would thrust out _a little_ from the shore.
This was morally lovely, and we may rest assured it produced its own
effect upon the heart of Simon.

"Now when He had left speaking, He said unto Simon, Launch out into
the deep, and let down your nets for a draught." Simon was about to be
well paid for the loan of his boat. "And Simon, answering, said unto
Him, Master, we have toiled all the night, and have taken nothing;
nevertheless, at Thy word, I will let down the net." There was power,
as well as grace, in that word! "And when they had this done, they
enclosed a great multitude of fishes; and their net brake. And they
beckoned unto their partners, which were in the other ship, that they
should come and help them. And they came, and filled both the ships,
so that they began to sink." Neither their nets nor their ships were
able to sustain the fruit of divine power and goodness. "When Simon
Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, Depart from me;
for I am a sinful man, O Lord."

Here, then, we have the great practical effect produced in Peter's
soul by the combined action of grace and power. He is brought to see
himself in the light of the divine presence, where alone self can be
truly seen and judged. Simon had heard the word of Jesus addressed to
the multitude on the shore. He had felt the sweet grace and moral
beauty of His way towards himself. He had marked the display of divine
power in the astonishing draught of fish. All told powerfully upon his
heart and conscience, and brought him on his face before the Lord.

Now this is what we may call a genuine work of conviction. Simon is in
the place of true self-judgment--a very blessed place indeed--a place
from which all must start if they are to be much used in the Lord's
work, or if, indeed, they are ever to exhibit much depth or stability
in the divine life. We need never look for any real power or progress
unless there is a deep and solid work of the Spirit of God in the
conscience. Persons who pass rapidly into what they call peace, are
apt to pass as rapidly out of it again. It is a very serious thing
indeed to be brought to see ourselves in the light of God's presence,
to have our eyes opened to the truth of our past history, our present
condition, and our future destiny. Simon Peter found it so in his day,
and so have all those who have been brought to a saving knowledge of
Christ. Hearken to Isaiah's words, when he saw himself in the powerful
light of the divine glory. "Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a
man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean
lips: _for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts_." So also
in the case of the patriarch, Job. "I have heard of Thee by the
hearing of the ear; but now _mine eye_ _seeth Thee_. Wherefore _I
abhor myself_, and repent in dust and ashes."

These glowing utterances reveal a deep and genuine work in both the
patriarch and the prophet. And surely our apostle occupied the same
moral ground when he exclaimed, from the very depths of a broken
heart, "Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord." If Simon is to
be called Cephas, he must be thoroughly broken up, and brought to the
end of himself. If he is to be used to catch men, he must learn, in a
divine way, man's true condition. If he is to teach others that "all
flesh is as grass," he must learn the application of this great truth
to his own heart.

Thus it is in every case. Look at Saul of Tarsus. What mean those
three days of blindness, during which he neither did eat nor drink?
May we not confidently affirm that they were serious days, perhaps the
most serious in the entire history of that remarkable man? They were,
doubtless, days in the which he was led down to the most profound
depths of his moral being, the deepest roots of his history, his
nature, his character, his conduct, his religion. He was led to see
that his whole life had been a terrible mistake, an awful lie; that
his very career as a religious man had been one of mad rebellion
against the Christ of God. All this, we may feel assured, passed in
solemn and soul-subduing review before the soul of this deeply,
because divinely, convicted man. His repentance was no superficial
work; it was deep and thorough; it left its impress upon the whole of
his after course, character, and ministry. He, too, like Simon, was
brought to the end of himself, and there he found an Object that not
only met his deepest need, but also perfectly satisfied all the
cravings and aspirations of his renewed being.

Now, we must confess we delight in contemplating a spiritual work of
this kind. It is truly refreshing to dwell upon conversions of this
type. We greatly fear that in much of the work of our time there is a
sad lack of depth and spiritual power, and, as a consequence, a lack
of stability in the Christian character, of depth and permanency in
the Christian course. It may be that those of us who are engaged in
the work of evangelization are feeble and shallow in the divine life
ourselves, that we are not near enough to Christ to understand how to
deal with souls; that we do not know how to present the truth from
God's side of it; that we are more desirous of showing out how the
sinner's need is met, than how the glory of God is secured and
maintained. We do not, perhaps, sufficiently press the claims of truth
and holiness upon the consciences of our hearers. There is a want of
fulness in the presentation of the truth of God, too much harping upon
one string; there is a barrenness and dreary monotony in the
preaching, arising from lack of abiding near the fountain head, and
drinking into our own souls from the inexhaustible springs of grace
and truth in the Person and work of Christ. Perhaps, too, we are more
occupied with ourselves and our preaching than with Christ and His
glory; more anxious to be able to parade the results of our work, than
to be a sweet savour of Christ to Godward.

We cannot but feel the weight and seriousness of these considerations
for all who take part in the work of the gospel. We certainly do need
to be more in the presence of God in reference to our service, for we
cannot, by any possibility, hide from ourselves the fact, in reference
to the preaching of this our day, that the fruit is small in quantity,
and poor in quality. We desire to bless God for any display of His
grace and power in souls; though we are by no means able to accredit
as genuine much that is boastfully paraded in the way of conversion.
What we long for is a deep, genuine unmistakable work of the Holy
Ghost; a work which will prove itself, beyond all contradiction, by
its permanent results in the life and character. It is one thing to
reckon up and publish a number of cases of conversion, and quite
another to see these cases made good in actual fact. The Holy Ghost
can, and does, tell us at times in the page of inspiration the number
of souls converted. He tells us of three thousand on one occasion. He
can do so, because He knows perfectly all about it. He can read the
heart. He can distinguish between the spurious and the genuine. But
when men undertake to count up and publish the number of their
converts, we must receive their statements with considerable reserve
and caution.

Not that we would be suspicious. God forbid; yea, we would earnestly
cultivate a hopeful temper of soul. Still, we cannot but feel that it
is better, in every case, to let the work speak for itself. All that
is really divine is sure to be found, even though it be after many
days; whereas, on the other hand, there is immense danger, both for
the workman and his work, in an eager and hasty reckoning up and
publishing of results.

But we must return to the lake of Gennesaret, and dwell for a moment
on the lovely grace that shines forth in our Lord's dealing with Simon
Peter. The work of conviction was deep and real. There could be no
mistaking it. The arrow had entered the heart, and gone right to its
very centre. Peter felt and owned that he was a man full of sin. He
felt he had no right to be near such an one as Jesus; and yet we may
truly say he would not for worlds have been anywhere else. He was
perfectly sincere in saying, "Depart from me," though we cannot but
believe he had an inward conviction that the blessed One would do
nothing of the kind. And if he had, he was right. Jesus could never
depart from a poor broken-hearted sinner--no, never. It was His
richest, deepest, joy to pour the healing balm of His love and grace
into a wounded soul. It was His delight to heal the broken heart. He
was anointed for that work, and it was His meat and His drink to do
it, blessed forever be His holy name!

"And Jesus said unto Simon, Fear not; from henceforth thou shalt
catch men." Here was the divine response to the cry of a contrite
heart. The wound was deep, but the grace was deeper still. The
soothing hand of a Saviour-God applied the precious balm. Simon was
not only convicted, but converted. He saw himself to be a man full of
sin, but he saw the Saviour full of grace; nor was it possible that
his sin could be beyond the reach of that grace. Oh, no, there is
grace in the heart of Jesus, as there is power in His blood, to meet
the very chief of sinners. "Fear not; from henceforth thou shalt catch
men. And when they had brought their ships to land, they forsook
_all_, and followed Him."

This was real work. It was a _bona fide_ case, as to which there could
be no question; a case of conviction, conversion, and consecration.




PART III.


We closed our last paper with these suggestive words, "_They forsook
all, and followed Him_"--words expressive, at once, of thorough
separation from the things of time and of nature, and of whole-hearted
consecration to Christ and His interests.

Both these we see in Simon Peter. There was a deep and blessed work
wrought in his soul at the lake of Gennesaret. He was given to see
himself, in the light of the divine presence, where alone self can be
really seen and judged. We have no reason to suppose that, viewed from
a human standpoint, Simon was worse than his neighbors. On the
contrary, it is more than probable, that so far as his outward life
was concerned, it was more blameless than that of many around him. He
was not, like the great apostle of the Gentiles, arrested at the very
height of a mad career of rebellion against Christ and His cause. He
is introduced to us, by the inspired historian, in the pursuit of his
quiet and honest calling as a fisherman.

But then Scripture expressly informs us that, "There is no difference,
for all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God" (Rom. iii.).
And it repeats this statement, in chap. x. of the same epistle, basing
it upon another footing, "There is no difference between the Jew and
the Greek: for the same Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon
Him."

Reader, see that you really understand this most important doctrine.
It is not that there are not broad lines of distinction, in a moral
and social point of view, between men. Most assuredly there are such.
There is, for example, a vast difference between the wretched drunkard
who comes home, or is carried home, night after night, worse than a
beast, to his poor broken-hearted wife and squalid, starving children,
and a sober, industrious man, who realizes his responsibility as a
husband and a father, and seeks to fulfil the duties attaching to such
relationships.

Now, we judge it would be a very great mistake indeed to ignore such a
distinction as this. We believe that God, in His moral government of
the world, recognizes it. Contrast, for a moment, the drunkard's home
with that of the sober man. Yea, contrast their whole career, their
social position, their course and character. Who can fail to recognize
the amazing difference between the two? There is a certain way of
presenting what is called, "The no-difference doctrine" which, to say
the least of it, is far from judicious. It does not allow the margin
which, as we believe, Scripture suggests, wherein to insert great
social and moral distinctions between men and men--distinctions which
only blindness itself can refuse to see. If we look at the present
government of God, we cannot but see that there is a very serious
difference indeed between one man and another. Men reap as they sow.
The drunken spendthrift reaps as he sows; and the sober, industrious,
honest man reaps as he sows. The enactments of God's moral government
are such as to render it impossible for men to escape, even in this
life, the consequences of their ways.

Nor is this all. Not only does God's present government take
cognizance of the conduct of men, causing them to reap, even here, the
due reward of their deeds but when Scripture opens to our view, as it
does in manifold places, the awful judgment to come, it speaks of
"books being opened." It tells us that men "shall be judged _every man
according to their works_." In short, we have close and accurate
discrimination, and not a promiscuous huddling of men and things.

And further, be it remembered, that the word of God speaks of degrees
of punishment. It speaks of "few stripes" and "many stripes." It uses
such words as "more tolerable" for one than another.

What mean such words, if there be not varied grounds of judgment,
varied characters of responsibility, varied measures of guilt, varied
degrees of punishment? Men may reason; but "the Judge of all the earth
will do right." It is of no possible use for people to argue and
discuss. Every man will be judged and punished according to his deeds.
This is the teaching of Holy Scripture; and it would be much better
and safer and wiser for men to submit to it than to reason against it,
for they may rest fully assured of it that the judgment-seat of Christ
will make very short work of their reasonings. Impenitent sinners will
be judged and punished according to their works: and, although men
may affect to believe that it is inconsistent with the idea of a God
of love that any of His creatures should be condemned to endure
eternal punishment in hell, still sin must be punished; and those who
reason against its punishment have only a one-sided view of God's
nature and character. They have invented a god of their own who will
connive at sin. But it will not do. The God of the Bible, _the God
whom we see at the cross_, the God of Christianity will, beyond all
question, execute judgment upon all who reject His Son; that judgment
will be according to every man's works; and the result of that
judgment will, inevitably, be "The lake that burneth with fire and
brimstone," forever and forever.

We deem it of the utmost importance to press on all whom it may
concern the line of truth on which we have been dwelling. It leaves
wholly untouched the real truth of the no-difference doctrine; but, at
the same time, it qualifies and adjusts the mode of presenting that
truth. It is always well to avoid an ultra one-sided way of stating
things. It damages truth and stumbles souls. It perplexes the anxious,
and gives a plea to the caviler. The full truth of God should always
be unfolded, and thus all will be right. Truth puts men and things in
their right places, and maintains a holy moral balance which is
absolutely priceless.

Is it then asserted that there is a difference? Not as regards the
question of righteousness before God. On this ground, there is not a
shadow of difference, for "all have sinned and come short of the
glory of God." Looked at in the light of that glory, all human
distinctions vanish. All are lost, guilty and condemned. From the very
lowest strata of society--its deepest dregs, up to the loftiest
heights of moral refinement, men are seen, in the light of the divine
glory, to be utterly and hopelessly lost. They all stand on one common
ground, are all involved in the one common ruin. And not only so, but
those who plume themselves on their morality, refinement, orthodoxy,
and religiousness, are further from the Kingdom of God than the vilest
of the sons and daughters of men, as our Lord said to the chief
priests and elders, "Verily I say unto you, that the publicans and the
harlots go into the Kingdom of God before you" (Matt. xxi.).

This is very humbling to human pride and pretension. It is a doctrine
to which none will ever submit until they see themselves as Simon
Peter saw himself in the immediate presence of God. All who have ever
been there will fully understand those self-condemning words, "Depart
from me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord." These were accents flowing
from the depths of a truly penitent and contrite soul. There is what
we may venture to call a lovely inconsistency in them. Simon had no
such thought as that Jesus would depart from him. He had, we may feel
assured, an instinctive sense that that blessed One who had spoken
such words to him, and shown such grace, could not turn away from a
poor broken-hearted sinner. And he judged rightly. Jesus had not come
down from heaven to turn His back upon any one who needed Him. "He
came to seek and to save that which is lost." "This is a faithful
saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the
world to save sinners." "Him that cometh unto Me, I will _in no wise_
cast out." A Saviour-God had come down into this world, not, surely,
to turn away from a lost sinner, but to save him and bless him, and
make him a blessing. "Fear not; from henceforth thou shalt catch men."

Such was the grace that shone upon the soul of Simon Peter. It removed
his guilt, hushed his fears, and filled him with joy and peace in
believing. Thus it is in every case. Divine pardon follows human
confession--follows it with marvelous rapidity. "I said, I will
confess my transgressions unto the Lord; and Thou forgavest the
iniquity of my sin." God delights to pardon. It is the joy of His
loving heart to cancel our guilt, and fill our souls with His own
blessed peace, and to make us the messengers of His grace to others.

Not that we are called in the same way, or to the same work, as our
apostle; but surely we are called to follow the Lord, and cleave to
Him, with purpose of heart. This is the blessed privilege and sacred
duty of every saved soul on the face of the earth; we are imperatively
called upon to break with the world, and follow Christ.

It is not a question of abandoning our proper calling in life, as in
Simon's case. Few indeed and far between are the cases in which such
a course of action is fitting. Many, alas! have assayed to do this,
and have entirely broken down, simply because they were not called of
God _to_ it, or sustained of God _in_ it. We are convinced that, as a
rule, it is better for every man to work with his hands or his brains
at some bread-winning calling, and preach and teach as well, if gifted
to do so. There are exceptions, no doubt, to the rule. There are some
who are so manifestly called, fitted, used, and sustained of God, that
there can be no possible mistake as to their course. Their hands are
so full of work, their every moment so engrossed with ministry in
speaking or writing, teaching publicly and from house to house, that
it would be a simple impossibility for them to take up what is termed
a secular calling--though we like not the phrase. All such have to go
on with God, looking only to Him, and He will infallibly maintain them
unto the end.

Still, admitting, as we are bound to do fully, the exceptions to the
rule, we are nevertheless convinced that, as a rule, it is better in
every way for men to be able to preach and teach without being
chargeable to any. It gives moral weight, and it furnishes a fine
testimony against the wretched hirelingism of Christendom so
demoralizing to souls, and so damaging, in every way, to the cause of
Christ.

But, Christian reader, we have to distinguish between abandoning our
lawful calling and breaking with the world. The former may be quite
wrong; the latter is our bounden duty. We are called to rise up, in
the spirit of the mind and in the firm purpose of the heart, out of
all merely worldly influences, to break every worldly link, and lay
aside every weight, in order to follow our blessed Lord and Master. We
are to be absolutely and completely for Him in this world, as He is
for us in the presence of God. When this is really the case with us,
it matters not whether we are sweeping a crossing or evangelizing a
continent. All is done to Him. This is the one grand point. If Christ
has His due place in our hearts, all will be right. If He has not,
nothing will be right. If there is any under current in the soul, any
secondary object, any worldly motive, any selfish aim or end, there
can be no progress. _We must make Christ and His cause our absorbing
object._




PART IV.


The more deeply we ponder the history of professing Christians,
whether as furnished by the pen of inspiration, or as coming within
the range of personal observation, the more fully we must see the vast
importance of a complete break with the world, at the outset. If there
be not this, it is vain to look for inward peace, or outward progress.
There may be a measure of clearness as to the doctrines of grace, the
plan of salvation, as it is called, justification by faith, and the
like. But unless there is the thorough judgment of self, and the
complete surrender of this present evil world, peace and progress must
be out of the question. How can there be peace where _self_, in some
one or other of its thousand shapes, is fostered? And how can there be
progress where the heart is hankering after the world, halting between
two opinions, and vacillating between Christ and present things?
Impossible. As well might a racer expect to get on in the race while
still lingering about the starting post, and encumbering himself with
heavy weights.

Is it then, that peace is to be found by denying self and giving up
the world? Most certainly not. But neither can peace ever be found
while self is indulged and the world retained. True peace is found
_only_ in Christ--peace of conscience in His finished work--peace of
heart in His blessed Person. All this is clear enough. But how comes
it to pass that hundreds of people who know, or profess to know, these
things have no settled peace, and never seem to take a single step in
advance? You meet them, week after week, month after month, year after
year, and there they are in the same position, in the same state, and
with the same old story, chronic cases of self-occupation, stereotyped
world-borderers, "ever learning, and never able to come to the
knowledge of the truth." They seem to delight in hearing the gospel
clearly preached, and truth fully unfolded. In fact, they cannot
endure anything else. But, for all that, they are never clear, bright
or happy. How can they be? They are halting between two opinions; they
have never broken with the world; they have never surrendered a whole
heart to Christ.

Here, we are persuaded, lies the real secret of the whole matter as
regards that class of persons now before us. "A double-minded man is
unstable in all his ways." A man who tries to keep one eye on the
world, and the other on Christ, will be found to have no eye for
Christ, but both eyes for the world. It must be so: Christ must be all
or nothing; and hence it is the very height of absurdity to talk of
peace or progress, where Christ is not the absorbing object of the
soul. Where He is, there will never be any lack of settled peace; and
there will be progress. The Holy Ghost is jealous for the glory of
Christ, and He can never minister comfort, consolation, or strength to
a heart divided between Him and the world. It could not be. He is
grieved by such unfaithfulness; and instead of being the minister of
comfort, He must be the stern reprover of indulged selfishness,
worldliness, and vacillation.

Let us look at the case of our apostle. How refreshing it is to
contemplate his thorough-going style! His starting was of the right
sort. "He forsook all and followed Christ." There was no halting here,
at all events; no vacillating between Christ and present things.
Boats, nets, fish, natural ties, all are unhesitatingly and
unreservedly surrendered, not as a matter of cold duty or legal
service, but as the grand and necessary result of having seen the
glory and heard the voice of the Son of God.

Thus it was with Simon Peter, at the opening of his remarkable career.
All was clear and unequivocal, whole-hearted and decided, so far as
the starting was concerned; and we must bear this in mind, as we
pursue his after history. No doubt, we shall find mistakes and
stumblings, failure, ignorance, and sin; but, underneath, and in spite
of all this, we shall find a heart true to Jesus--a heart divinely
taught to appreciate the Christ of God.

This is a grand point. Blunders may well be borne with, when the heart
beats true to Christ. Some one has remarked that, "The blunderers do
all the work." If this be so, the reason is that those blunderers have
real affection for their Lord; and that is precisely what we all want.
A man may make a great many mistakes, but if he can say when
challenged by his Lord, "Thou knowest that I love Thee," he is sure to
come right in the end; and not only so, but, even in the very midst
of his mistakes, our hearts are much more drawn to him than to the
cold, correct, sleek professor, who thinks of himself, and seeks to
make the best of both worlds.

Simon Peter was a true lover of Christ. He had a divinely given sense
of His preciousness, of the glory of His Person, and the heavenly
character of His mission. All this comes out, with much force and
freshness, in his varied confessions of Christ, even before the day of
Pentecost. We shall glance at one or two of these, not with any view
to chronological order, but simply to illustrate and prove the lovely
devotedness of this true-hearted servant of Christ.

Let us turn to Matt. xvi. "When Jesus came into the coasts of Cæsarea
Philippi, he asked His disciples, saying, Whom do men say that I, the
Son of man, am?" Weighty question! Upon the answer to this question
hangs the whole moral condition and future destiny of every human
being under the sun. All really depends upon the heart's estimate of
Christ. This it is, which like a great moral indicator, reveals a
man's true state, character, bent and object, in all things. It is not
merely a question of his outward life, or of his profession of faith.
The former may be blameless, and the latter orthodox; but, if
underneath all this blameless morality and orthodox profession, there
be not one true pulsation of the heart for Christ, no divinely wrought
sense of what, and who, and whence He is, then verily all the morality
and the orthodoxy are but the trappings with which a guilty,
hell-deserving sinner adorns himself in the eyes of his fellows, or
with which he deceives himself as to the awful eternity which lies
before him. "What think ye of Christ?" is the all-deciding question;
for God the Holy Ghost has emphatically declared that, "If any
man"--no matter who or what he be--"love not the Lord Jesus Christ,
let him be Anathema Maranatha" (1 Cor. xvi. 22).

How awful is this! And how remarkable to find it at the close of such
an epistle as the first to the Corinthians! How forcibly it declares
to all who will only bend their ears to listen, that love to Christ is
the basis of all sound doctrine, the motive spring of all true
morality! If that blessed One be not enthroned at the very centre of
the heart's affections, an orthodox creed is an empty delusion; and an
unblemished reputation is but dust cast in a man's eyes to prevent him
seeing his true condition in the sight of God. The Christians at
Corinth had fallen into many doctrinal errors and moral evils, all
needing rebuke and correction; but when the inspiring Spirit
pronounces His awful anathema, it is levelled, not at the introducers
of any one special error, or moral pravity, but at "any man who loves
not the Lord Jesus Christ."

This is peculiarly solemn at all times; but specially so for the day
in which our lot is cast, when the Person and glory of Christ are so
little thought of or cared for. A man may actually blaspheme Christ,
deny His deity or His eternal Sonship, and yet be received into
professing Christian circles, and allowed to preside at so-called
religious meetings. Surely all this must be dreadful in the sight of
God, whose purpose it is "that all men should honor the Son even as
they honor the Father;" and that every knee should bow, and every
tongue confess to Jesus as Lord of all. God is jealous for the honor
of His Son; and the man that neglects, rejects, and blasphemes that
blessed One will yet have to learn and own the eternal justice of that
most solemn decree, "If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let
him be Anathema Maranatha."

How momentous, therefore, the question put by our Lord Christ to His
disciples, "Whom do _men_ say that I, the Son of man, am?" Alas, alas!
"men" knew nothing, cared nothing about Him. They knew neither who He
was, what He was, nor whence He was. "Some say that thou art John the
Baptist; some, Elias; and others, Jeremias, or one of the prophets."
In a word, there was endless speculation, because there was utter
indifference and thorough heartlessness. The human heart has not so
much as a single true thought about Christ, not one atom of affection
for Him. Such is the awful condition of the very best of men until
renewed by divine grace. They know not, they love not, they care not
for the Son of God--the Beloved of the Father's heart--the Man on the
throne of heaven's majesty. Such is their moral condition, and hence
their every thought, word, and act is contrary to God. They have not a
single feeling in common with God, for the most distinct of all
reasons, that the One who is everything to Him is nothing to them.
Christ is God's standard, and every one and everything must be
measured by Him. The heart that does not love Christ has not a single
pulsation in unison with the heart of God; and the life that does not
spring from love to Christ however blameless, respectable, or splendid
in the eyes of men, is a worthless, objectless, misspent life in the
judgment of God.

But how truly delightful to turn from all the heartlessness and
indifference of "men," and harken to the testimony of one who was
taught of God to know and own who the Son of man was! "Simon Peter
answered and said, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God."
Here was the true answer. There was no vain speculation here, no
uncertainty, no may be this, or may be that. It was divine testimony
flowing from divinely given knowledge. It was not yea and nay, but yea
and amen to the glory of God. We may rest fully assured that these
glowing words of Simon Peter went up, like fragrant incense, to the
throne of God, and refreshed the heart of the One who sat there. There
is nothing in all the world so precious to God as a heart that, in any
measure, appreciates Christ. Let us never forget this!

"And Jesus answered and said unto him, Blessed art thou, Simon
Barjona; for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but My
Father which is in heaven. And I say also unto thee, that thou art
Peter; and upon this Rock I will build My Church; and the gates of
hell shall not prevail against it."

Here we have the very first direct allusion to the Church, or Assembly
of Christ; and the reader will note that our Lord speaks of it as yet
future. He says, "I _will_ build My Church." He was the Rock, the
divine foundation; but ere a single stone could be built on Him, He
must die.

This is a grand cardinal truth of Christianity--a truth which our
apostle had yet to learn, notwithstanding his brilliant and beautiful
confession. Simon Peter was not yet prepared for the profound mystery
of the cross. He loved Christ, and he had been taught of God to own
Him in a very full and blessed manner; but he had yet much to learn
ere he could take in the soul-subduing truth that this blessed Son of
the living God must die, ere even he, as a living stone, could be
built upon Him. "From that time forth began Jesus to show unto His
disciples, how that He must go unto Jerusalem, and suffer many things
of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and be
raised again the third day."

Here the solemn truth begins to break through the clouds. But Simon
Peter is not prepared for it. It withered up all his Jewish hopes and
earthly expectations. What! The Son of the living God must die! How
could it be? The glorious Messiah be nailed to a cross! "Then Peter
took Him, and began to rebuke Him, saying, Be it far from Thee, (or
pity Thyself) Lord, this shall not be unto Thee."

Such is man! Such was even Simon Peter! He would fain turn the blessed
Lord away from the cross! He would, in his ignorance, frustrate the
eternal counsels of God, and play into the hands of the devil! Poor
Peter! What a rock he would be for the Church to be built upon! "The
Lord turned, and said unto Peter, Get thee behind Me, Satan, thou art
an offence unto Me; for thou savorest not the things that be of God,
but those that be of men."

Withering words? Who would have thought that "Blessed art thou, Simon
Barjona," should so speedily be followed by, "Get thee behind Me,
Satan?"




PART V.


We must still linger a little over the deeply interesting and
instructive scene in the sixteenth chapter of Matthew. It brings
before us two great subjects, namely, "The Church," and "The Kingdom
of Heaven." These things must never be confounded. As to the first, it
is only to be found in the New Testament. Indeed, as has often been
remarked, verse 18 of our chapter contains the very first direct
allusion in the volume of God to the subject of the Church, or
assembly, of Christ.

This, though familiar to many of our readers, may present a difficulty
to others. Many Christians and Christian teachers strongly maintain
that the doctrine of the Church is distinctly unfolded in Old
Testament Scripture. They consider that the saints of the Old
Testament belonged to the Church; in fact, that there is no
difference, whatever; all form one body; all stand on one common
ground; and that to represent the Lord's people in New Testament times
as in a higher position, or endowed with higher privileges than
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, is a delusion. It seems strange to such to
assert that Enoch, Noah, Abraham, and Moses, did not belong to the
Church--were not members of the body of Christ--were not endowed with
the selfsame privileges as believers now. Trained from their earliest
days to believe that all God's people, from the beginning to the end
of time, stand on the same ground, and form one common body, they find
it impossible to admit of any difference. It seems to them presumption
on the part of Christians to assert that they are in any respect
different from God's beloved people of old--those blessed worthies of
whom we read in Hebrews xi., who lived a life of faith and personal
devotedness, and who are now in heaven with their Lord.

But the all-important question is, "What saith the Scripture?" It can
be of no possible use to set up our own thoughts, our own reasonings,
our own conclusions, in opposition to the word of God. It is a very
easy matter for men to reason, with great apparent force, point, and
cleverness, about the absurdity and presumption of the notion that
Christians are in a better and higher place, and more privileged, than
God's people of old.

But this is not the proper way in which to approach this great
subject. It is not a question of the difference _personally_ between
the Lord's people at different periods. Were it so, where should we
find, amongst the ranks of Christian professors, any one to compare
with an Abraham, a Joseph, a Moses, or a Daniel? Were it a question of
simple faith, where could we find in the entire history of the Church
a finer example than the father of the faithful? Were it a question of
personal holiness, where could we find a brighter illustration than
Joseph? For intimacy with God, and acquaintance with His ways and
mind, who could go beyond Moses? For unswerving devotedness to God
and His truth, could we find a brighter example than the man who went
down into the lions' den rather than not pray toward Jerusalem?

However, let it be distinctly understood that it is not by any means a
personal question, or a comparison of people, but of dispensational
position. If this be clearly seen, it will, we doubt not, remove out
of the way a great deal of the difficulty which many pious people seem
to feel in reference to the truth of the Church.

But above and beyond all this stands the question, What does Scripture
teach on the subject? If any one had spoken to Abraham about being a
member of the body of Christ, would he have understood it? Could that
honored and beloved saint of God have had the most remote idea of
being linked by an indwelling Spirit to a living Head in heaven?
Utterly impossible. How could he be a member of a body which had no
existence? And how could there be a body without a Head? And when do
we first hear of the Head? When the Man Christ Jesus, having passed
through death and the grave, ascended into the heavens, and took His
seat at the right hand of the Majesty on high. Then, and not until
then, did the Holy Ghost come down to form the Body, and link it by
His presence to the glorified Head above.

This, however, is rather anticipating a line of argument which is yet
to come before us. Let us here put another question to the reader. If
any one had spoken to Moses about a body composed of Jews and
Gentiles,--a body whose constituent parts had been drawn from among
the seed of Abraham and the cursed race of the Canaanites,--what would
he have said? May we not safely assert that his whole moral being
would have shrunk with horror from the thought? What! Jews and
Canaanites--the seed of Abraham and uncircumcised Gentiles--united in
one body? Impossible for the lawgiver to take in such an idea. The
fact is, if there was one feature which more strongly than another
marked the Jewish economy, it was the rigid separation by divine
appointment of Jew and Gentile. "Ye know," says Simon Peter, "how that
it is an unlawful thing for a man that is a Jew to keep company, or to
come unto one of another nation."

Such was the order of things under the Mosaic economy. It would have
been a flagrant transgression on the part of a Jew to climb over that
middle wall of partition which separated him from all the nations
around; and hence the thought of a union between Jew and Gentile could
not possibly have entered into any human mind; and the more faithful a
man was to the existing order of things under the law, the more
opposed he must have been to any such thought.

Now, in the face of all this, how can any one seek to maintain that
the truth of the Church was known in Old Testament times, and that
there is no difference whatever between the position of a Christian
and that of an Old Testament believer? The fact is that even Simon
Peter himself found it extremely difficult to take in the idea of
admitting the Gentiles into the Kingdom of Heaven. Though he was
entrusted with the keys of that kingdom, he was very reluctant indeed
to use them for the admission of the Gentiles. He had to be expressly
taught by a heavenly vision, ere he was prepared to fulfil the
commission with which he was charged by his Lord in Matthew xvi.

No, reader, it is of no possible use to stand against the plain
testimony of Scripture. The truth of the Church was not--could not--be
known in Old Testament times. It was, as the inspired apostle tells
us, "hid in God"--hid in His eternal counsels--"not made known to the
sons of men, as it is now revealed unto His holy apostles and prophets
by the Spirit,[3] that the Gentiles should be _fellow-heirs_, and of
_the same body_, and partakers of His promise in Christ by the
gospel." (Eph. iii.)

  [3] The "prophets," in this passage, are those of the New Testament.
  This is evident from the expression, "_Now revealed_." He could not
  speak of a thing being "now revealed" to men who had been dead for
  hundreds of years. Besides, had the apostle meant Old Testament
  prophets, the order would assuredly have been "Prophets and apostles."
  We have a similar expression in Eph. ii. 20: "Built upon the
  foundation of the apostles and prophets." He does not say, "prophets
  and apostles." The truth is that the apostles and prophets formed the
  first layer of the foundation of the Church of which Jesus Christ is
  the chief Corner-stone; and this is an additional proof that the
  Church had no existence save in the secret counsels of God until our
  Lord Christ, having accomplished the work of redemption, ascended into
  the heavens, and sent down the Holy Ghost to baptize believers--Jews
  and Gentiles--into one body.

The reader may also refer with real profit and interest to Rom. xvi.
25, 26: "Now to Him that is of power to stablish you according to my
gospel, and the preaching of Jesus Christ, according to _the
revelation of the mystery, which was kept secret since the world
began_, but _now is made manifest_, and by the scriptures of the
prophets (literally, by the prophetic writings, that is, of the New
Testament), according to the commandment of the everlasting God, made
known to all nations for the obedience of faith."

We can only reach the great mystery of the Church by walking over the
broken-down middle wall of partition. "Wherefore remember, that ye
being in time past Gentiles in the flesh, who are called
Uncircumcision by that which is called the Circumcision in the flesh
made by hands; that at that time ye were without Christ, being aliens
from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers from the covenants of
promise, having no hope, and without God in the world. But now, in
Christ Jesus, ye who sometimes were far off are made nigh _by the
blood of Christ_. For He is our peace, who hath made both one, and
hath broken down the middle wall of partition, having abolished in His
flesh the enmity, the law of commandments in ordinances, for to make
in Himself of twain one new man, making peace; and that He might
reconcile both unto God in one body by the cross, having slain the
enmity thereby; and came and preached peace to you which were afar
off, and to them that were nigh. For through Him we both have access
by one Spirit unto the Father." (Eph. ii. 11-18.)

Thus, from all that has passed before us, the reader will, we trust,
fully see why it is that our Lord in His word to Simon Peter speaks of
the Church as a future thing. "Upon this rock _I will build_ my
Church." He does not say, "I have been," or, "I am, building my
Church." Nothing of the kind. It could not be. It was still "hid in
God." The Messiah had to be cut off and have nothing--nothing, for the
present, as regards Israel and the earth. He must be rejected,
crucified, and slain, in order to lay the foundation of the Church. It
was utterly impossible that a single stone could be laid in this new,
this wondrous building until "the chief Corner-stone" had passed
through death and taken His place in the heavens. It was not in
incarnation, but in resurrection, that our Lord Christ became Head of
a body.

Now our apostle was not in the least prepared for this. He did not
understand one jot or tittle of it. That Messiah should set up a
kingdom in power and glory--that He should restore Israel to their
destined pre-eminence in the earth--all this he could understand and
appreciate--he was looking for it. But a suffering Messiah--a rejected
and crucified Christ--of this he could not hear just then. "Be it far
from Thee, Lord; this shall not be unto Thee." These were the words
which drew forth that withering rebuke with which we closed our last
paper, "Get thee behind Me, Satan; thou art an offence unto Me; for
thou savorest not the things that be of God, but those that be of
men."

We may gather the gravity of his error from the severity of the
rebuke. Peter had much to learn, much to go through, ere he could
grasp the great truth which His Lord was putting before him. But he
did grasp it, by the grace of God, and confess it, and teach it with
power. He was led to see not only that Christ was the Son of the
living God, but that He was a rejected Stone, disallowed of men, but
chosen of God and precious; and that all who through grace come to Him
must share His rejection on earth as well as His acceptance in heaven.
They are perfectly identified with Him.




PART VI.


At the close of John vi. we have a very clear and beautiful confession
of Christ from the lips of our apostle--a confession rendered all the
more touching and forcible by the circumstances under which it was
delivered.

Our blessed Lord, in His teachings in the synagogue at Capernaum, had
unfolded truth which puts the poor human heart to the test, and
withers up all the pretensions of man in a very remarkable manner. We
cannot here attempt to enter upon the subject of our Lord's discourse,
but the effect of it is thus recorded:--"From that time many of His
disciples went back, and walked no more with Him." They were not
prepared for the reception of such heavenly doctrine. They were
offended by it, and they turned their backs upon that blessed One who
alone was worthy of all the affections of the heart, and of the homage
and devotion of the whole moral being. "_They went back, and walked no
more with Him._"

Now we are not told what became of these deserters, or whether they
were saved or not. No such question is raised. We are simply told that
they abandoned Christ, and ceased to be any longer publicly identified
with His name and His cause. How many, alas! have since followed their
sad example! It is one thing to profess to be the disciples of
Christ, and another thing altogether to stand with firm purpose of
heart on the ground of public testimony for His name, in thorough
identification with a rejected Lord. It is one thing for people to
flock to Christ because of the benefits which He bestows, and it is
quite another to cleave to Him in the face of the world's scorn and
contempt. The application of the doctrine of the cross very speedily
thins the ranks of professors. In the chapter before us we see at one
moment multitudes thronging enthusiastically around the Man who could
so marvelously supply their need, and the next moment abandoning Him,
when His teaching offended their pride.

Thus it has been, thus it is, and thus it will be until that day in
the which the despised Stranger of Nazareth shall reign from pole to
pole, and from the river to the ends of the earth. We are ready enough
to avail ourselves of the benefits and blessings which _a loving
Saviour_ can bestow upon us, but when it becomes a question of
following _a rejected Lord_ along that rough and lonely path which He
has trodden for us in this sinful world, we are disposed, like those
of old, to go back, and walk no more with Him.

This is very sad and very humiliating. It proves how little we know of
His heart, or of what that heart desires from us. Jesus longs for
fellowship. He does not want patronage. It does not meet the desire of
His heart to be followed, or admired, or gazed at, because of what He
can do or give. He delights in a heart taught of God to appreciate
His Person, for this glorifies and gratifies the Father. He retired
from the gaze of an excited and tumultuous throng who would fain make
Him a king, because they had eaten of the loaves and were filled; but
He could turn, with touching earnestness, to the little band of
followers who still remained, and challenge their hearts with the
question, "Will ye also go away?"

How deeply affecting! How it must have touched the hearts of all, save
that one who had no heart for aught but money--who was "a thief" and
"a devil!" Alas! alas! a moment was approaching when all were to
forsake Him and fly--when He was to be left absolutely _alone_,
forsaken of men, forsaken of God--utterly and awfully deserted.

But that moment was yet future; and it is peculiarly refreshing to
harken to the fine confession of our beloved apostle, in reply to the
deeply affecting inquiry of his Lord. "Then Simon Peter answered Him,
Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life. And we
believe and are sure that Thou art that Christ, the Son of the living
God."

Well indeed might he say, "To whom shall we go?" There was not another
throughout the wide universe of God to whom the heart could turn. He
alone could meet their every need, satisfy their every right desire,
fill up every chamber of the heart. Simon Peter felt this, and hence,
with all his mistakes, his failures, and his infirmities, his loving
and devoted heart turned with earnest affection to his beloved Lord.
He would not abandon Him, though little able to rise to the height of
His heavenly teaching. There was a link binding him to Jesus Christ
which nothing could snap. "Lord, to whom shall we go?"--whither shall
we betake ourselves?--on whom could we reckon beside? True, there may
be trial and difficulty in the path of true discipleship. It may prove
a rough and a lonely path. The heart may be tried and tested in every
possible way. There may be deep and varied sorrow--deep waters, dark
shadows; but in the face of all we can say, "To whom shall we go?"

And mark the singular fulness of Peter's confession. "Thou _hast_ the
words of eternal life;" and then, "Thou _art_ that Christ, the Son of
the living God." We have the two things, namely, what He _has_, and
what He _is_. Blessed be His name, Christ has all we can possibly want
for time and eternity. Words of eternal life flow from His lips into
our hearts. He causes those who follow Him to "inherit substance." He
bestows upon them "durable riches and righteousness." We may truly say
that, in comparison of what Christ has to give, all the riches,
honors, dignities, and pleasures of this world are but dross. They all
pass away as the vapors of the morning, and leave only an aching void
behind. Nothing that this world has to offer can possibly satisfy the
cravings of the human soul. "All is vanity and vexation of spirit."
And not only so--it must be given up. If one had all the wealth of
Solomon, it lasts but a moment in comparison with that boundless
eternity which lies before every one of us. When death approaches, all
the riches of the universe could not purchase one moment's respite.
The last great enemy gives no quarter. He ruthlessly snaps the link
that connects man with all that his poor heart prizes and loves upon
earth, and hurries him away into eternity.

And what then? Yes, this is the question. Who can answer it? Who can
attempt to picture the future of a soul that passes into eternity
without God, without Christ, without hope? Who can describe the
horrors of one who, all in a moment, opens his eyes to the fact--the
tremendous fact--that he is lost, lost forever--hopelessly, eternally,
lost? It is positively too dreadful to dwell upon it. And yet it must
be looked at; and if the reader is still of the world, still
unconverted, careless, thoughtless, unbelieving, we would earnestly
entreat of him now, just now, to give his earnest attention to the
weighty and all-important question of his soul's salvation--a
question, in comparison with which all other questions dwindle into
utter insignificance. "What shall it profit a man, if he should gain
the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in
exchange for his soul?" It is, beyond all question, the most egregious
folly that any one can be guilty of to put off the grand business of
his soul's salvation.

And if any one inquire what he has to do in this business, the answer
is _Nothing_--"nothing, either great or small." Jesus has the words
of eternal life. He it is who says, "Verily, verily, I say unto you,
he that heareth My word, and believeth on Him that sent Me, _hath_
everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment, but _is passed_
from death unto life."

Here is the hinge on which the whole matter moves. Harken to the words
of Christ. Believe in Him that sent His blessed Son. Put your trust in
God, and you shall be saved; you shall have eternal life, and never
come into judgment.

Nor is this all. Simon Peter, in his lovely confession, does not
confine himself to what Christ has to give, precious and blessed as
that is, but he also speaks of what He is. "Thou art that Christ, the
Son of the living God." This is full of deepest interest for the
heart. Christ not only gives us eternal life, but He also becomes the
object of our heart's affections--our satisfying portion, our
unfailing resource, our infallible Guide and Counselor, our constant
reference, in all our need, in all our pressure, in all our sorrows
and difficulties. We need never go to any one else for succor,
sympathy, or guidance. We have all we want in Him. He is the eternal
delight of the heart of God, and He may well be the delight of our
hearts here and hereafter, now and forever.




PART VII.


The close of Matt. xiv. presents a scene in the life of our apostle on
which we may dwell with profit for a few moments. It furnishes a very
fine illustration of his own touching inquiry, "Lord, to whom shall we
go?"

Our Lord having fed the multitude, and sent His disciples across the
sea, retired into a mountain, to be alone in prayer. In this we have a
striking foreshadowing of the present time. Jesus has gone on high.
Israel is for the present set aside, but not forgotten. Days of
trouble will come--rough seas and stormy skies will fall to the lot of
the remnant; but their Messiah will return, and deliver them out of
all their troubles. He will bring them to their desired haven, and all
will be peace and joy for the Israel of God.

All this is fully unfolded on the page of prophecy, and is of the
deepest interest to every lover of God and His word; but for the
present we can merely dwell upon the inspired record concerning Simon
Peter, and seek to learn the lesson which that record so forcibly
teaches. "And straightway Jesus constrained His disciples to get into
a ship, and to go before Him unto the other side, while He sent the
multitudes away. And when He had sent the multitudes away, He went up
into a mountain apart to pray; and when the evening was come, He was
there alone. But the ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed
with waves, for the wind was contrary. And in the fourth watch of the
night Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea. And when the disciples
saw Him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, It is a
spirit; and they cried out for fear. But straightway Jesus spake unto
them, saying, Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid. And Peter
answered Him, and said, Lord, if it be Thou, bid me come unto Thee on
the water. And He said, Come. And when Peter was come down out of the
ship, he walked on the water to go to Jesus. But when he saw the wind
boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying,
Lord, save me. And immediately Jesus stretched forth His hand, and
caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst
thou doubt?"

This brief passage presents to our view in a very forcible way some of
the leading features of Simon Peter's character. His zeal, his energy,
his real devotedness of heart, no one can for a moment call in
question; but these very qualities--beautiful as they surely are--led
him not unfrequently into a position of such prominence as to render
his weak points all the more conspicuous. A man of less zeal, less
energy, would have remained on board the ship, and thus avoided
Peter's failure and breakdown. Perhaps, too, men of cooler temperament
would condemn as unwarrantable rashness Peter's act in leaving the
ship, or pronounce it a piece of forwardness which justly deserved a
humiliating rebuff.

All this may be so; but we are free to confess that the zeal, energy
and devotedness of this beloved servant of Christ have far more
powerful charms for the heart than the cool, calculating,
self-considering spirit which, in order to avoid the shame and
humiliation of a defeat, refuses to take a bold and decided step for
Christ. True it is that Peter in the interesting scene now before us
completely broke down. But why did he? Was it because he left the
ship? No; but because he ceased to look in simple faith to Jesus. Here
lay the root of his failure. Had he only kept his eye on the Master,
he could have walked on the water though ever so rough. Faith can walk
on rough water as easily as on smooth. Nature cannot walk on either.
It is not a question of the state of the water, but the state of the
heart. Circumstances have nothing to do with faith, except, indeed,
that when difficult and trying, they develop its power and brightness.
There was no reason whatever, in the judgment of faith, why Peter
should have failed in his walk on the water. Faith looks not at the
things that are seen and temporal, but at the things which are unseen
and eternal. It endures as seeing Him who is invisible. "Faith is the
evidence of things _not seen_." It lifts the heart above the winds and
waves of this rough world, and keeps it in perfect peace, to the
praise of Him who is the Giver of faith, as of "every good and perfect
gift."

But our beloved apostle utterly failed in faith on the occasion now
before us. He, as we, alas! so often do, took his eye off the Lord
and fixed it on his surroundings, and as a consequence he immediately
began to sink. It must ever be so. We cannot get on for a single
moment save as we have the living God as a covering for our eyes. The
grand motto for the life of faith is, "Looking off unto Jesus." It is
this alone which enables us to "run the race set before us," be the
way rough or smooth. When Peter came down out of the ship, it was
either Christ or drowning. He might well say at such a moment, "Lord,
to whom shall I go?" Whither could he turn? When on board the ship, he
had its timbers between him and death, but when on the water he had
nothing but Jesus.

And was not He enough? Yes, verily, if only Peter could have trusted
Him. This is the point. All things are possible to him that believeth.
Storms are hushed into a perfect calm, rough seas become like glass,
lofty mountains are leveled, when faith brings the power of God to
bear. The greater the difficulties, the brighter the triumphs of
faith. It is in the furnace that the real preciousness of faith is
displayed. Faith has to do with God, and not with men or things. If we
cease to lean on God, we have nothing but a wild, watery waste--a
perfect chaos--around us, where nature's resources must hopelessly
fail.

All this was proved by Simon Peter when he came down out of the ship
to walk on the water; and every child of God and every servant of
Christ must prove it in his measure, for Peter's history is full of
great practical lessons for us all. If we want to walk above the
circumstances of the scene through which we are passing--if we would
rise superior to its influences--if we would be able to give an
answer, clear, distinct, and decided, to the skepticism, the
rationalism and the infidelity of the day in which we live--then,
assuredly, we must keep the eye of faith firmly fixed on "the Author
and Perfecter of faith." It is not by logical skill or intellectual
power we shall ever meet the arguments of the infidel, but by an
abiding sense, a living and soul-satisfying apprehension, of the
all-sufficiency of Christ--Himself--His work--His word--to meet our
every need, our every exigence.

But it may be the reader feels disposed to condemn Peter for leaving
the ship. He may think there was no need for his taking such a step.
Why not abide with his brethren on board the vessel? Was it not
possible to be quite as devoted to Christ in the ship as on the water?
And, further, did not the sequel prove that it would have been far
better, and safer, and wiser, for Peter to remain where he was, than
to venture forth on a course which he was not able to pursue?

To all this we reply that our apostle was evidently governed by an
earnest desire to be nearer to his Lord. And this was right. He saw
Jesus walking on the water, and he longed to be with Him. And,
further, he had the direct authority of his Lord for leaving the ship.
We fully and freely grant that without this it would have been a
fatal mistake to leave his position; but the moment that word "Come"
fell on his ear he had a divine warrant for going forth upon the
water--yea, to have remained would have been to miss great blessing.

Thus it is in every case. We must have authority before we can act in
anything. Without this, the greater our zeal, energy, and apparent
devotedness, the more fatal will be our mistake, and the more mischief
we shall do to ourselves, to others, and to the cause of Christ. It is
of the very last possible importance in every case, but especially
where there is a measure of zeal, earnestness, and energy, that there
should be sober subjection to the authority of the Word. If there be
not this, there is no calculating the amount of mischief which may be
done. If our devotedness flow not in the channel of simple obedience,
if it rush over the embankments formed by the word of God, the
consequences must be most disastrous.

But there is another thing which stands next in importance to the
authority of the _divine Word_, and that is the abiding realization of
the _divine presence_. These two things must never be separated if we
want to walk on the water. We may be quite clear and settled in our
own minds, having distinct authority for any given line of action; but
if we have not with equal distinctness the sense of the Lord's
presence with us--if our eyes are not continually on the living
God--we shall most assuredly break down.

This is very serious, and demands the gravest consideration of the
Christian reader. It was precisely here that Peter failed. He did not
fail in obedience, but in realized dependence. He acted on the word of
Jesus in leaving the ship, but he failed to lean on the arm of Jesus
in walking on the water; hence his terror and confusion. Mere
authority is not enough; we want power. To act without authority is
wrong. To act without power is impossible. The authority for starting
is the word. The power to proceed is the divine presence. The
combination of the two must ever yield a successful career. It matters
not in the smallest degree what the difficulties are if we have the
stable authority of Holy Scripture for our course, and the blessed
support of the presence of God in pursuing it. When God speaks, we
must obey; but in order to do so, we must lean on His arm. "Have not I
commanded you?" "Lo, I am with you."

Here are the two things so absolutely essential to every child of God
and every servant of Christ. Without these, we can do nothing; with
them, we can do all things. If we have not a "Thus saith the Lord," or
"It is written," we cannot enter upon a path of devotedness; and if we
have not His realized presence, we cannot pursue it. It is quite
possible to be right in setting out, and yet to fail in going on.

It was so in the case of Simon Peter, and it has been so in the case
of thousands since. It is one thing to make a good start, and another
thing to make good progress. It is one thing to leave the ship, and
another thing to walk on the water. Peter did the former, but he
failed in the latter. This beloved servant of Christ broke down in his
course; but where did he find himself? In the arms of a loving
Saviour. "Lord, save me!" How touching! How deeply affecting! He casts
himself upon a well-known love--a love which was yet to meet him in
far more humiliating circumstances. Nor was he disappointed. Ah, no!
Blessed be God, no poor failing creature can ever appeal to that love
in vain. "And immediately Jesus stretched forth His hand, and caught
him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou
doubt?" Exquisite grace! If Peter failed to reach his Lord, his Lord
did not fail to reach him. If Peter failed in faith, Jesus could not
fail in grace. Impossible. The grace of our Lord Jesus is exceeding
abundant. He takes occasion from our very failures to display His rich
and precious love. Oh, how blessed to have to do with such a tender,
patient, loving Lord! Who would not trust Him and praise Him, love Him
and serve Him?




PART VIII.


We have now to follow our beloved apostle into the darkest and most
humbling scene in his entire history--a scene which we could hardly
understand or account for if we did not know something of the infinite
depths of divine grace on the one hand, and, on the other hand, of the
terrible depths into which even a saint of God or an apostle of Christ
is capable of plunging if not kept by divine power.

It seems very wonderful to find on the page of inspiration the record
of the fall of such an eminent servant of Christ as Simon Peter. We,
in our wisdom, would judge it best to draw the curtain of silence over
such an event. Not so the Holy Ghost. He has seen fit to tell us
plainly of the errors, and failures, and sins, of such men as Abraham,
Moses, David, Peter, and Paul, in order that we may learn holy lessons
from such records--lessons of human frailty, lessons of divine grace,
lessons full of solemn warning, and yet of most precious consolation
and encouragement. We learn what we are, and we learn what God is. We
learn that we cannot trust ourselves for a single moment; for, if not
kept by grace, there is no depth of sin into which we are not capable
of falling; but we learn to trust the eternal stability of that grace
which has dealt with the erring ones and sinning ones of other days,
and to lean with ever-growing confidence on the One who is "the same
yesterday, to-day, and for ever."

Not one of the four evangelists omits the fall of Peter. Let us open
at Matt. xxvi.; "And when they had sung a hymn they went out into the
mount of Olives. Then saith Jesus unto them, All ye shall be offended
because of Me this night; for it is written, I will smite the
Shepherd, and the sheep of the flock shall be scattered abroad. But
after I am risen again I will go before you into Galilee. Peter
answered and said unto Him, Though all shall be offended because of
Thee, yet will I never be offended."

In these few words Peter lets out the real root of the whole matter.
That root was self-confidence--alas! alas! no uncommon root amongst
us. We do not in the least question Peter's sincerity. We feel
perfectly sure he meant all he said; and, further, that he had not the
most remote idea of what he was about to do. He was ignorant of
himself, and we generally find that ignorance and self-confidence go
together. Self-knowledge destroys self-confidence. The more fully self
is known, the more it must be distrusted. If Peter had known himself,
known his tendencies and capabilities, he never would have uttered the
words which we have just penned. But so full was he of self-confidence,
that when his Lord told him expressly what He was about to do, he
replied, "Though I should die with Thee, yet will I not deny Thee."

This is peculiarly solemn. It is full of instruction for us all. We
are all so ignorant of our own hearts that we deem ourselves incapable
of falling into certain gross sins. But we should, every one of us,
bear in mind that if not kept each moment by the grace of God, we are
capable of anything. We have materials in us for any amount or
character of evil; and whenever we hear any one saying, "Well, I
certainly am a poor, failing, stumbling creature, but I am not capable
of doing the like of that," we may feel assured he does not know his
own heart; and not only so, but he is in imminent danger of falling
into some grievous sin. It is well to walk humbly before our God,
distrusting self, and leaning on Him. This is the true secret of moral
safety at all times. Had Peter realized this, it would have saved him
his terrible downfall.

But Peter was self-confident, and, as a consequence, he failed to
watch and pray. This was another stage in his downward journey. Had he
only felt his utter weakness, he would have sought for strength
divine. He would have cast himself on God for grace to help in time of
need. Look at the blessed Master! He, though God over all, blessed
forever, yet being a Man, having taken the place of the creature, and
fully entering into His position, was agonizing in prayer while Peter
was fast asleep. Yes, Peter slept in the garden of Gethsemane while
his Lord was passing through the deepest anguish He had yet tasted,
though deeper still lay before Him. "Then cometh Jesus with them unto
a place called Gethsemane, and saith unto the disciples, Sit ye here,
while I go and pray yonder. And He took with Him Peter and the sons of
Zebedee, and began to be sorrowful and very heavy. Then saith He unto
them, My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death; tarry ye here,
and watch with Me. And He went a little further, and fell on His face,
and prayed, saying, O My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass
from Me: nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt. And He cometh
unto the disciples, and findeth them asleep, and _saith unto Peter_,
What! could ye not watch with Me one hour? Watch and pray, that ye
enter not into temptation: the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh
is weak."

What tender grace! What readiness to make allowance! What moral
elevation! And yet He felt the sad want of sympathy, the cold
indifference to His sore agony. "I looked for some to take pity, but
there was none; and for comforters, but I found none." How much is
involved in these words! He looked for comforters. That perfect human
heart craved sympathy; but, alas! there was none for Him. Even Peter,
who declared himself ready to die with Him, fell asleep in view of the
agonies of Gethsemane.

Such is man--yea, the very best of men! Self-confident, when he ought
to be self-distrusting--sleeping, when he ought to be watching; and,
we may add, fighting, when he ought to be submitting. "Then Simon
Peter, having a sword, drew it, and smote the high priest's servant,
and cut off his right ear. The servant's name was Malchus." How
incongruous, how utterly out of place, was a sword in company with the
meek and lowly Sufferer! "Then said Jesus unto Peter, Put up thy
sword into the sheath: the cup which My Father hath given Me, shall I
not drink it?" Peter was entirely out of the current of his Master's
spirit. He had not a thought in common with Him in reference to His
path of suffering. He would fain defend Him with carnal weapons,
forgetting that His kingdom was not of this world.

All this is peculiarly solemn. To find a dear and honored servant of
Christ failing so grievously is surely sufficient to teach us to walk
very softly. But, alas! we have not yet reached the lowest point in
Peter's downward course. Having used his sword in defence of his
Master, we next find him "following afar off." "Then took they Jesus,
and led Him, and brought Him to the high priest's house. And _Peter
followed afar off_. And when they had kindled a fire in the midst of
the hall, and were set down together, _Peter sat down among them_."

What company for an apostle of Christ! "Can a man touch pitch, and not
be defiled by it? Can one walk on burning coals, and his feet not be
burned?" It is terribly dangerous for the Christian to sit down among
the enemies of Christ. The very fact of his doing so proves that
decline has set in, and made serious progress. In Peter's case the
stages of decline are strongly marked. First, boasting in his own
strength; secondly, sleeping when he ought to have been praying;
thirdly, drawing his sword when he ought to have been meekly bowing
his head; fourthly, following afar off; fifthly, making himself
comfortable in the midst of the open enemies of Christ.

Then comes the last sad scene in this terrible drama. "And as Peter
was beneath in the palace, there cometh one of the maids of the high
priest; and when she saw Peter warming himself, she looked upon him,
and said, And thou also wast with Jesus of Nazareth. But he denied,
saying, _I know not, neither understand I, what thou sayest_. And he
went out into the porch; and the cock crew. And a maid saw him again,
and began to say to them that stood by, This is one of them. _And he
denied it again._ And a little after, they that stood by said again to
Peter, Surely thou art one of them, for thou art a Galilean, and thy
speech agreeth thereto. But _he began to curse and to swear, I know
not this man of whom ye speak_. And the second time the cock crew. And
Peter called to mind the word that Jesus said unto him, Before the
cock crow twice thou shalt deny Me thrice. And when he thought
thereon, he wept." (Mark xiv. 66-72.)

Luke adds a most touching clause: "_And the Lord turned and looked
upon Peter._ And Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had
said unto him, Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny Me thrice. And
Peter went out, and wept bitterly."

How deeply affecting is all this! Only think of a saint of God, and an
apostle of Christ, cursing and swearing that he did not know his
Lord! Does the reader feel disposed to question the fact that Peter
was, spite of all this, a genuine saint of God? Some do question it,
but their questioning is a gross mistake. They find it hard to
conceive such a thing as a true child of God falling so terribly. It
is because they have not yet thoroughly learnt what flesh is. Peter
was as really a saint of God in the palace of the high priest as he
was on the mount of transfiguration. But he had to learn himself, and
that, too, by as humiliating and painful a process as any soul could
well be called to pass through. Doubtless, if any one had told Peter,
a few days before, that he would ere long curse and swear that he did
not know his Lord, he would have shrunk with horror from the thought.
He might have said, like one of old, "Is thy servant a dog that he
should do this thing?" Yet so it was. We know not what we may do until
we are in the circumstances. The great thing for us all is to walk
humbly with our God day by day, deeply sensible of our own utter
weakness, and clinging to Him who is able to keep us from falling. We
are safe only in the shelter of His presence. Left to ourselves, we
are capable of anything, as our apostle found to his deep sorrow.

But the Lord was watching over His poor erring servant. He never lost
sight of him for a single moment, He had His eye upon the whole
process. The devil would have smashed the vessel in hopeless fragments
if he could. But he could not. He was but an instrument in the divine
hand to do a work for Peter which Peter had failed to do for himself.
"Simon, Simon, behold Satan hath desired to have you, that he may sift
you as wheat; but I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not; and
when thou art converted (or restored), strengthen thy brethren."

Here we are permitted to see the root of the matter. Peter needed to
be sifted, and Satan was employed to do the work--just as in the case
of Job, and the man in 1 Cor. v. It seems very wonderful, very
mysterious, very solemn, that Satan should be so used. Yet so it is.
God uses him "for the destruction of the flesh." He cannot touch the
spirit. That is eternally safe. But it is terrible work to get into
Satan's sieve. Peter found it so, and so did Job, and so did that
erring Corinthian.

But oh, the _grace_ of those words! "I have prayed for thee"--not that
he might not fall, but, having fallen, that his faith might not fail,
his confidence might not give way. Nothing can surpass the grace that
shines out here. The blessed One knew all that was to happen--the
shameful denial--the cursing and swearing; and yet, "I have prayed for
thee that thy faith fail not"--that thy confidence in the eternal
stability of my grace may not give way.

Perfectly marvelous! And then, the _power_ of that look! "The Lord
turned, and looked upon Peter." It was this that broke Peter's heart,
and drew forth a flood of bitter, penitential tears.




PART IX.


We are now called to consider the intensely interesting subject of
Simon Peter's restoration, in which we shall find some points of the
utmost practical importance. If in his fall we learn the frailty and
folly of man, in his restoration we learn the grace, wisdom, and
faithfulness of our Lord Jesus Christ. The fall was, indeed, deep,
terrible, and humiliating. The restoration was complete and marvelous.
We may rest assured that Simon Peter will never forget either the one
or the other; nay, he will remember them with wonder, love, and
praise, throughout the countless ages of eternity. The grace that
shines in Peter's restoration is the same which is displayed in his
conversion. Let us glance at some of the salient points. It can be but
the merest glance, as our space is limited. And first let us look at


THE PROCURING CAUSE.

This we have given us with peculiar force by the pen of the inspired
evangelist Luke. "And the Lord said, Simon, Simon, behold Satan hath
desired to have thee, that he may sift thee as wheat." If Satan had
been suffered to have his way, poor Simon would have been hopelessly
ruined. But no; he was merely employed as an instrument, as he had
been in Job's case, to do a needed work, and, when that work was done,
he had to retire. He dare not go one hair's breadth beyond his
appointed sphere. It is well to remember this. Satan is but a
creature--crafty, wily, powerful, no doubt, but a creature who can
only go as far as he is permitted by God. Had Peter walked softly, had
he humbly and earnestly looked for divine help, had he been judging
himself in secret, there would have been no need of Satan's sifting.
Thanks be to God, Satan has no power whatever with a soul that walks
humbly with God. There is perfect shelter, perfect safety, in the
divine presence; and there is not an arrow in the enemy's quiver that
can reach one who leans in simple confidence upon the arm of the
living God. Here our apostle failed, and hence he had to pass through
a very severe process indeed, in order that he might learn himself.

But, oh, the power and preciousness of those words, "_I have prayed
for thee_!" Here assuredly lay the secret--here was the procuring
cause of Simon's restoration. The prayer of Jesus sustained the soul
of His erring servant in that terrible hour when the enemy would fain
have crushed him to powder. What could Satan do in opposition to the
all-powerful intercession of Christ? Nothing. That wonderful prayer
was the ground of Peter's safety, when, to human view, all seemed
hopelessly gone.

And for what did our Lord pray? Was it that Peter might not commit the
awful sin of denying Him? Was it that he might not curse and swear?
Clearly not. What then? "I have prayed for thee that thy faith fail
not."

Can aught exceed the grace that shines here? That gracious, loving,
faithful Lord, in view of Peter's terrible sin--knowing all he was
about to do, all the sad forgetfulness--could actually plead for him
that, spite of all, his confidence might not give way--that he might
not lose the sense of the eternal stability of that grace which had
taken him up from the depth of his ruin and guilt.

Matchless grace! Nothing can surpass it in brightness and blessedness.
Had it not been for this prayer, Peter's confidence must have given
way. He never could have survived the awful struggle through which his
soul passed when thinking of his dreadful sin. When he came to
himself, when he reflected upon the whole scene, his expressions of
devotedness, "Though all should deny Thee, yet will I never deny
Thee"--"Though I should die with Thee, yet will I not deny Thee"--"I
am ready to go with Thee to prison and to death"--to think of all
these words, and yet that he should deny his beloved Lord with cursing
and swearing, was overpowering.

It is a dreadful moment in the soul's history when one wakes up to the
consciousness of having committed sin--sin against light, knowledge,
and privilege--sin against divine grace and goodness. Satan is sure to
be specially busy at such a crisis. He casts in the most terrible
suggestions--raises all manner of questions--fills the heart with
legal reasonings, doubts, and fears--causes the soul to totter on the
foundation.

But, thanks and praise to our God, the enemy cannot prevail. "Hitherto
shalt thou come, and no further." The all-prevailing intercession of
our divine Advocate sustains the faith so sorely tried, carries the
soul through the deep and dark waters, restores the broken link of
communion, heals the spiritual wounds, lifts up the fallen one, brings
back the wanderer, and fills the heart with praise and thanksgiving.
"I have prayed for thee that thy faith fail not; and when thou art
restored, strengthen thy brethren." Here we have set before us in the
most touching way _the procuring cause_ of Simon Peter's restoration.
We shall now look for a moment at


THE PRODUCING MEANS.

For this, too, we are indebted to the evangelist Luke. Indeed it is
through him the inspiring Spirit has given us so much of what is
exquisitely human--so much of what goes straight to our very hearts,
in subduing power--so much of God coming out in loveliest human form.

We have already noticed Peter's gradual descent--his sad progress,
from one stage to another, in moral distance and culpable
decline--forgetting to watch and pray--following afar off--warming
himself at the enemy's fire--the cowardly denial--the cursing and
swearing. All this was down! down! down! shamefully and awfully down.
But when the erring, straying, sinning one had reached the very lowest
point, then comes out, with heavenly lustre, the grace that shines in
the procuring cause and the producing means of his restoration. The
former we have in Christ's _prayer_; the latter in Christ's _look_.
"The Lord turned, and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered the word
of the Lord, how He had said unto him, Before the cock crow, thou
shalt deny Me thrice. And Peter went out, and wept bitterly."

Yes, here it is; "The Lord _looked_"--"Peter remembered"--Peter
wept--"wept bitterly." What a look! What a remembrance! What a
weeping! What human heart can conceive, what tongue express, what pen
portray, all that is wrapped up in that one look? We can well believe
that it went right home to the very centre of Peter's soul. He will
never forget that marvelous look, so full of mighty moral power--so
penetrating--so melting--so soul-subduing.

"Peter went out, and wept bitterly." This was the turning point. Up to
this all was darkly downward. Here divine light breaks in upon the
deep moral gloom. Christ's most precious prayer is having its answer,
His powerful look is doing its work. The fountain of the heart is
broken up, and penitential tears flow copiously forth, demonstrating
the depth, reality, and intensity of the work within.

Thus it must ever be, and thus it will ever be when the Spirit of God
works in the soul. If we have sinned, we must be made to feel, to
judge, and to confess our sin--to feel it deeply, judge it thoroughly,
and confess it fully. It will not do merely to say, in levity,
flippancy, or mere formality, "I have sinned." There must be reality,
uprightness, and sincerity. God desires truth in the inward parts.
There was nothing light, flippant, or formal about our beloved apostle
in the hour of his fall and repentance. No, all was intensely real. It
could not but be so with such a procuring cause, and such a producing
means. The prayer and look of Peter's Lord displayed their precious
results in Peter's restoration.

Now the reader will do well to notice that the prayer and look of our
Lord Jesus Christ set forth, in a very striking and beautiful manner,
the two grand aspects of Christ's present ministry as our Advocate
with the Father. We have the value and prevalency of His intercession,
and the power and efficacy of His word in the hands of the Holy Ghost,
that "other Advocate." Christ's _prayer_ for Peter answers to His
intercession for us. His _look_ upon Peter answers to His word brought
home to us in the power of the Holy Ghost. When we sin--as, alas! we
do in thought and deed--our blessed and adorable Advocate speaks to
God on our behalf. This is the procuring cause of our repentance and
restoration. But He speaks to us on God's behalf. This is the
producing means.

We shall not dwell upon the great subject of the advocacy here, having
recently sought to unfold it in our papers on "The All-sufficiency of
Christ." We shall close this paper with a brief reference to two or
three of the moral features of Peter's restoration--features which,
be it well remembered, must be looked for in every case of true
restoration. In the first place there is


THE STATE OF THE CONSCIENCE.

Now, as to the full and complete restoration of Peter's conscience
after his terrible fall, we have the most unquestionable evidence
afforded in his after history. Take the touching scene at the sea of
Tiberias, as given in John xxi.[4] Look at that dear, earnest,
thorough man, girding his fisher's coat around him, and plunging into
the sea, in order to get to the feet of his risen Lord! He waits
neither for the ship nor for his companions, but in all the lovely
freshness and liberty of a divinely restored conscience, he rushes to
his Saviour's feet. There is no tormenting fear, no legal bondage, no
doubt, darkness, or distance. His conscience is perfectly at rest. The
prayer and the look--the two grand departments of the work of
advocacy--had proved effectual. Peter's conscience was all right,
sound, and good; and hence he could find his home in the presence of
his Lord--his holy, happy home.

  [4] We have no record of Peter's first meeting with his Lord, after
  the resurrection.

Take another striking and beautiful evidence of a restored conscience.
Look at Peter in Acts iii. There he stands in the presence of
assembled thousands of Jews, and boldly charges them with having
"denied the Holy One and the Just"--the very thing which he himself
had done though under circumstances very different. How could Peter do
this? How could he have the face to speak so? Why not leave it to
James or John to prefer this heavy charge? The answer is blessedly
simple. Peter's conscience was so thoroughly restored, so perfectly at
rest, because perfectly purged, that he could fearlessly charge the
house of Israel with the awful sin of denying the Holy One of God. Was
this the fruit of moral insensibility? Nay, it was the fruit of divine
restoration. Had any one of the congregation gathered in Solomon's
porch undertaken to challenge our apostle as to his own shameful
denial of his Lord, we can easily conceive his answer. The man who had
"wept bitterly" over his sin would, we feel assured, know how to
answer such a challenge. Not that his bitter weeping was the
meritorious ground of his restoration; nothing of the kind, it only
proved the reality of the work of repentance in his soul. Moral
insensibility is one thing, and a restored conscience, resting on the
blood and advocacy of Christ, is quite another.

But there is another thing involved in a true work of restoration, and
that is


THE STATE OF THE HEART.

This is of the very utmost importance in every instance. No
restoration can be considered divinely complete which does not reach
the very depths of the heart. And hence, when we turn back to the
scenes on the shore of the sea of Tiberias, we find the Lord dealing
very closely and very powerfully with the state of Peter's heart. We
cannot attempt to expatiate, much as we should like to do so, on one
of the most affecting interviews in the entire volume of God. We

Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/40575