The Speciality of the Design of the Atonement
or
The Entire Pardon and Justification of the Believing Sinner
by Octavius Winslow
In that day there shall be a fountain opened to the house of David and
to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, for sin and uncleanness—
Zechariah 13:1.
We have already, in the opening chapter of this work, remarked upon the incompetency of natural reason to understand spiritual truth: neither the nature, the harmony, or the end of Divine truth can it discern. This incapacity may be traced, not to a deficiency of mental endowment, or to the extreme abstruseness of revelation, for the weakest intellect, enlightened and sanctified by the Spirit of God, may grasp the profoundest doctrine in the great system of theology, so far as the revelation of that doctrine extends—but to the lack of a spiritually-renewed mind. This is the cause and this only. There is the mind, and there is the truth; the one vigorous, the other lucid; and yet there is no sympathy the one with the other. How, on other grounds, can it be accounted for? There is no spiritual taste for the investigation of God’s holy Word. The moral tone of the mind harmonizes not with its holy and lofty themes. The one is on the side of holiness, the other on the side of sin. The one asserts the authority and spirituality of the law, the other assumes the attitude of hostility to that law. Where then is the affinity? where the sympathy? On other subjects it may be at home; here, it is tossed upon an open sea. In the investigation of other themes, it may prove itself a giant in power; here, it betrays the feebleness of a dwarf. It follows then, as a self-evident truth, that the mind must be changed, and changed by God himself, before Divine truth will either be understood or received. Hence we find the Apostle, in behalf of the Ephesian Christian thus praying: “That the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give unto you the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of him, the eyes of your understanding being enlightened.” Eph. i. 17, 18.
Of all the doctrines of the Gospel, thus dark and inexplicable to an unrenewed
mind, is the doctrine of Christ’s Atonement in its especial and gracious
design. This can only be understood by a mind awakened to the nature and
turpitude of their personal sin. As the expiation of sin was the great
design of Christ’s wondrous death, so no individual, thus ignorant
of sin, however vast his mental powers, and however firm his belief in
the truth of Divine revelation, can discover and welcome this truth. We
speak not, and need we again assure the reader, of mere theoretical views
of truth. O no! We speak of a higher grade of knowledge than this. There
is as wide a difference as possibly can be, between a reception of the
truth in the judgment, and the reception of the truth in the heart. Let
no man be deceived. To deceive others is awful—but to deceive one-self;
more awful yet! It is to this natural darkness, this ignorance of sin,
this lack of the Spirit’s teaching, that we are to attribute all
the false and erroneous views that men have advanced touching the nature
and design of Christ’s death. It is our solemn belief, that all error
in theology, especially that which undermines the Atonement, has its rise
in the setting aside the law of God. Let the law be fully recognized in
its Divine authority, its inflexible dignity, and its spotless purity;
let its condemnatory sentence be felt in the soul; let all hope of justification
by its obedience be swept away, and let the sinner stand forth in the
full blaze of its terrors; and then will be seen the absolute necessity
of an Atonement, and precisely such an Atonement as the adorable Redeemer
offered upon the cross. No individual then, taught by the Spirit, who
is emphatically designated “The Spirit of Truth,”—made
to see the exceeding sinfulness of sin as against a holy God—emptied
of all self-sufficiency—the eye open to the inward plague, and laid
prostrate in the dust as a poor, broken-hearted sinner—no individual
thus taught, would ever affirm that Jesus died with any other design than
that for which he did die, that is, to offer to Divine Justice a full
and infinite satisfaction for sin.
This brings us to the immediate discussion of the subject. May we feel,
that the ground on which we now stand, is holy. If there be a subject,
the consideration of which we should approach with caution, humility,
and prayer, it is this. May our hearts be lifted up to God for the teachings
of his Spirit, whose blessed office, in the economy of grace, it is to
glorify Christ, “taking of the things that belong to him, and showing
them to the soul.” John xvi. 14. O for his holy anointing, while
we treat of this stupendous subject—Christ presenting himself a sacrifice
for sin! For the purpose of presenting the subject clearly before the
mind of the reader, we shall first adduce those prominent portions of
God’s Word, which declare the end and design of Christ’s death
to be an Atonement for sin; it will then be appropriate to show that the
Atonement of Christ is a full and entire blotting out of the sins of his
people; this will prepare us to glance at the great covenant blessings
which an experimental belief of this truth conveys into the soul.
The Word of God, the only rule of faith and duty, distinctly and invariably
represents the death of Jesus as a sacrifice, and the especial and gracious
design of that sacrifice, an Atonement for sin. If this is denied, how
are we to interpret the following remarkable passages? “He was wounded
for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement
of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.” Isa.
liii. 5. “The Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.”
Ver. 6. “This is my blood of the New Testament, which is shed for
many for the remission of sins.” Matt. xxvi. 28. “When we were
yet without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly.” Rom.
v. 6. “He has made him to be sin (or a sin offering) for us, who
knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.”
2 Cor. v. 21. “In whom we have redemption through his blood, the
forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of his grace.” Eph.
i. 7. “Forasmuch as you know that you were not redeemed with corruptible
things, as silver and gold, from your vain conversation received by tradition
from your fathers; but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb
without blemish and without spot.” 1 Pet. i. 18, 19. “For if
the blood of bulls and of goats, and the ashes of an heifer sprinkling
the unclean, sanctifies to the purifying of the flesh: how much more shall
the blood of Christ, who through the Eternal Spirit offered himself without
spot to God, purge your conscience from dead works to serve the living
God?” Heb. ix. 13, 14. “Herein is love, not that we loved God,
but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our
sins.” 1 John iv. 10.
How perfectly unintelligible these declarations of God’s Word, if
we regard them not as so many affirmations of the great doctrine in question!
Let not the reader turn away from God’s Word. If he be a disbeliever
in the doctrine of Christ’s vicarious sufferings, let him be cautious
how he tampers with these solemn declarations. They affirm the doctrine
of the Atonement, or nothing at all. They possess no meaning if interpreted
in any other light. Recur again to the amazing expressions—“Wounded
for our transgressions.” “Bruised for our iniquities.”
On him the “iniquity of us all.” “Blood shed for the remission
of sins” “Died for the ungodly.” “Made sin.”
“Through his blood the forgiveness of sins.” “Propitiation
for our sins.” What see we here, but the Atoning blood—the full
satisfaction—the bearing of sin—the surety, the substitute?
And how shall we account for the sufferings of Christ, which were intense,
and mysterious, if not on the ground of their vicarious character? Those
sufferings were intense in the extreme. There was a severity in those
who, if not required by Divine justice, would be perfectly unaccountable.
Heaven, Earth, and Hell, all were in league against him. Survey his eventful
history mark every step which he took from Bethlehem to Calvary; and what
do we learn of his sufferings, but that they were of the most extraordinary
and intense character? His enemies, like dogs of war, were let loose upon
him. His professed followers themselves stood aghast at the scenes through
which their Lord was passing—one betraying him, another denying him,
and all, in the hour of his extremity, forsaking him. Is it any wonder
that, in the anguish of his soul, his suffering humanity should exclaim,
“Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not my
will, but yours be done.” In that awful moment, all the waves and
billows of God’s wrath, due to the sins of his people, were passing
over him. The Father, the last resource of sympathy, veiled his face,
and withdrew from him his sensible presence, and on the cross, draining
the cup of sorrow, he fulfilled the prophecy which spoke of him—“I
have trodden the wine-press alone; and of the people there were none with
me.” Isa. lxiii. 3.
His sufferings, too, were mysterious. Why a holy, harmless Being, whose
whole life had been one act of unparalleled beneficence, should be doomed
to persecution so severe, to sufferings so acute, and to a death so painful
and ignominious, the denier of the atonement must be embarrassed to account.
But the doctrine of a vicarious sacrifice explains it all, and presents
the only key to the mystery. “He was made sin for us, who knew no
sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.” 2 Cor.
v. 21. “Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made
a curse for us.” Gal. iii. 13. All the mystery now is gone. He was
“made sin for us.” He was “made a curse for us.” He
bore the sin, and consequently the penalty of sin. Had we been left, Christian
reader, to bear our sins, we must inevitably have borne alone the punishment
of our sins. But Jesus took upon him our sins. For this, he became a party
in the covenant of redemption; for this, he assumed our nature; for this,
he sorrowed in Gethsemane; for this, the law of God exacted its utmost
claim; and for this, the justice of God inflicted the utmost penalty.
O what a truth is this! The Son of God offering himself up a sacrifice
for sin! He who knew no sin; who was holy, harmless, and undefiled; not
one thought of evil in his heart, yet made sin, or a sin-offering!
O the bigness of the thought! If God had not himself declared it, we could
not have believed it, though an angel’s trumpet had announced it.
God himself must proclaim it; and because he has so proclaimed it, we
believe it. And God alone can write it upon the heart. ‘O blessed
and adorable Immanuel! and was this the end and design of your intense
and mysterious sufferings? Was it that you should obey, bear the sin,
endure the curse, and bow your head in death, that I might go free? Was
it in my stead, and in my behalf? O unexampled love! O infinite and free
grace! That God should become incarnate: that the Holy One should so take
upon Him sin, as to be dealt with by stern justice as though He were Himself
the sinner: that He should drain the cup of wrath, give his back to the
smiter, endure the shame and the spitting, and at last be suspended upon
the cross, and pour out his last drop of most precious blood—and
all this for me—for me a rebel—for me a worm for me the chief
of sinners! Be astonished, O heavens! and be amazed, O earth! Was ever
love like this?’
It will now be appropriate to show from God’s Word, that the Atonement
of the blessed Redeemer was a full and entire blotting out of the sins
of the believer. Need we say anything upon the vast importance of this
truth? Need we say how closely it stands connected with the peace, the
sanctification, and the eternal glory, of the sinner that hangs on Christ?
Let not the reader be satisfied to rest upon the mere surface of the truth,
that Christ has made an Atonement for sin; this may be believed, and yet
the full blessedness, peace, and sanctification of it not enjoyed. And
why? Because he enters not fully into the experience of the truth. Shall
we not say, too, because his views of sin rest but on the surface of sin’s
exceeding sinfulness? Deep views of sin will ever result in deep views
of the Sacrifice for sin. Inadequate knowledge of sin result in inadequate
knowledge of Christ. Low views of self result in high views of Christ.
Be satisfied then not to rest upon the surface of this wondrous truth.
May God the Eternal Spirit now lead us into it!
Before we consider the completeness of Christ’s Atonement, it may
be proper to glance at the basis or cause of that completeness. This arises
from the infinite dignity of his Person: his Godhead forms the basis of
his perfect work. It guarantees, so to speak, the glorious result of his
Atonement. It was this that gave perfection to his obedience, and virtue
to his Atonement: it was this that made the blood He shed efficacious
in the pardon of sin, and the righteousness He wrought out complete in
the justification of the soul. His entire work would have been lacking,
but for his Godhead. No created Savior—that dream of the Socinian—could
have given full satisfaction to an infinite law, broken by man, and calling
aloud for vengeance. How could such a sacrifice, as we would suppose a
created Savior to offer, have “magnified the law, and made it honorable?”
utterly impossible! A finite being had broken it—an infinite Being
must repair it. An obedience was required, in every respect equal in glory
and dignity to the law that was violated. The rights of the Divine government
must be maintained, the purity of the Divine nature must be guarded, and
the honor of the Divine law must be vindicated. To accomplish this, God
himself must become flesh, and to carry this fully out, the incarnate
God must die! O depth of wisdom and of grace! O love infinite, love rich,
love free! Love...
“Not to be thought on, but with tides of joy,
Not to be mentioned, but with shouts of praise.”
Stamped, as the work of Christ is, with the infinite glory and dignity
of his Godhead, it will now be an easy and a delightful task to trace
its perfection, as it is seen first, in the entire blotting out of all
sin, and second, in the complete justification of the person.
The pardon of a believer’s sins is an entire pardon. It is the full
pardon of all his sins. It were no pardon to him if it were not an entire
pardon. If it were but a partial blotting out of the thick cloud—if
it were but a partial cancelling of the debt—if it were but a forgiveness
of some sins only—then the Gospel would not be glad tidings to his
soul. The law of God has brought him in guilty of an entire violation.
The justice of God demands a satisfaction equal to the enormity of the
sins committed, and of the guilt incurred. The Holy Spirit has convinced
him of his utter helplessness, his entire bankruptcy. What rapture would
kindle in his bosom at the announcement of a mere partial atonement of
a half Savior—of a partial payment of the debt? Not one throb of
joyous sensation would it produce. On the contrary, this very mockery
of his woe would but deepen the anguish of his spirit.
But, go to the soul, weary and heavy laden with sin—mourning over
its vileness, its helplessness, and proclaim the Gospel. Tell him that
the Atonement which Jesus offered on Calvary was a full satisfaction for
his sins. That all his sins were borne and blotted out in that awful moment.
That the bond which Divine justice held against the sinner was fully cancelled
by the obedience and sufferings of Christ, and that, appeased and satisfied,
God was “ready to pardon.” How beautiful will be the feet that
convey to him tidings so transporting as this! And are not these statements
perfectly accordant with the declarations of God’s own Word? Let
us ascertain. What was the ark symbolical of, alluded to by the Apostle,
in the ninth chapter of his Epistle to the Hebrews, which contained the
manna, Aaron’s rod, and the tables of the covenant, over which stood
the cherubim of glory shadowing the mercy-seat? What, but the entire covering
of sin? For, as the covering of the ark did hide the law and testimony,
so did the Lord Jesus Christ hide the sins of his chosen, covenant people;
not from the eye of God’s omniscience, but from the eye of the law.
They stand legally acquitted. So entire was the work of Jesus, so infinite
and satisfactory his obedience, the law of God pronounces them acquitted—and
can never bring them into condemnation. “There is therefore now no
condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the
flesh, but after the Spirit.” “Who is he that condemns? It is
Christ that died.” How could the Apostle, with any truth, have made
a declaration so astounding, and uttered a challenge so dauntless as this,
if the point we are now endeavoring to establish were not strictly as
we affirm it to be?
And does not the phraseology which the Holy Spirit employs in announcing
the doctrine of Divine forgiveness confirm the statement we have made?
“I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, your transgressions, and,
as a cloud, your sins: return unto me; for I have redeemed you.”
Isa. xliv. 22. Where would be the constraining power of the motive to
“return” to God, but on the ground of a full and entire blotting
out of all sin? This it is that subdues, overcomes, and wins back God’s
wandering child. This it is that abases the soul—deepens the conviction
of its vileness, makes the sin of departure, of ingratitude, of rebellion,
so abhorrent, when on the broad basis of a full and free blotting out
of sin, God bids the soul “return.” ‘I have blotted out
all your sins, therefore return. Though you have gone after other lovers—though
you have departed from me—forgotten and forsaken me, yet have I blotted
out, as a thick cloud, your transgressions: return, for I have redeemed
you.’ Again: “In those days, and in that time, with the Lord,
the iniquity of Israel shall be sought for, and there shall be none; and
the sins of Judah, and they shall not be found.” Jer. 1. 20. “He
will turn again, he will have compassion upon us; he will subdue our iniquities;
and will cast all their sins into the depths of the sea.” Micah vii.
19.
What an astounding truth is contained in these two passages! In the one
it is declared, that if the iniquity of Israel, and the sin of Judah,
be sought for, they shall not be found. So entire was the blotting out,
so glorious was the work of Jesus, so perfect his obedience, that if the
eye of God’s holy law searches—and where can it not penetrate?
it cannot discover them. In the other, it is declared, that, so fathomless
are the depths of that sea of atoning blood, which Christ has poured out,
that in it are cast, never to be found again, all the sins of the believer.
So that the trembling soul may exclaim, “You have in love to my soul
delivered it from the pit of corruption: for you have cast all my sins
behind your back.” Isa. xxxviii. 17.
And who can read, without deep emotion, these affecting announcements
by the God of heaven? Gently chiding his wayward, yet beloved people,
he says: “But, my dear people, you refuse to ask for my help. You
have grown tired of me! You have not brought me lambs for burnt offerings.
You have not honored me with sacrifices, though I have not burdened and
wearied you with my requests for grain offerings and incense. You have
not brought me fragrant incense or pleased me with the fat from sacrifices.
Instead, you have burdened me with your sins and wearied me with your
faults. I—yes, I alone—am the one who blots out your sins for
my own sake and will never think of them again.” Isaiah 43:22-25.
“I will cleanse them from all their iniquity, whereby they have sinned
against me; and I will pardon all their iniquities whereby they have sinned,
and whereby they have transgressed against me.” Jer. xxxiii. 8. “Bless
the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits: who forgives all
your iniquities; who heals all your diseases. For as the heaven is high
above the earth, so great is his mercy towards those who fear him. As
far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions
from us.” Psalm. ciii. 2, 3, 11, 12.
Look up, you saints of God, who are disconsolate through fear of condemnation.
See all your sins charged to the account of your mighty Surety. Yes, see
them all laid upon him as your Substitute. See him bearing them away—sinking
them in the ocean of his blood—casting them behind his back. Look
up and rejoice! Let not the indwelling of sin, the remains of corruption,
cause you to overlook this amazing truth—the entire blotting out
of all your sins, through the atoning blood of your adorable Immanuel.
It is truth, and it is your privilege to live in the holy enjoyment of
it. Fully received into the heart, by the teaching of the Holy Spirit,
its tendency will be of the most holy, sanctifying, abasing character.
It will weaken the power of sin—it will draw up the heart in pantings
for Divine conformity—it will deaden the influence of the objects
of sense—expel the love of the world and of self—impart tenderness
to the conscience, and cause the soul to go softly—“Walking
worthy of the Lord, unto all pleasing, being fruitful in every good work,
and increasing in the knowledge of God.” Col. i. 10.
Before we pass to an experimental view of the kindred, though distinct
doctrine of justification, we would beg the Christian reader’s serious
attention to a subject of the greatest importance, and yet one much overlooked—we
allude to the intimate connection between a daily habit of confession
of sin, and the application of the atoning blood to the conscience. This
is a point of deep significance—and for the lack of clear and scriptural
views of it—or from not having seriously considered it at all, the
believer in Christ walks for days, and it may be, months, without the
blood upon the conscience. The sympathy between the soul’s deep and
humble confession of sin and the sense of the blotting out of that sin,
is great. God has so ordained it. In turning to the book of Leviticus
xvi. 21, we find a beautiful and striking illustration of this important
point. Thus we read: “And Aaron shall lay both his hands upon the
head of the live goat, and confess over him all the iniquities of the
children of Israel, and all their transgressions in all their sins, putting
them upon the head of the goat, and shall send him away by the hand of
a fit man into the wilderness.” Here was the confession of sin and
the pardon of sin, closely and beautifully blended. The one would have
been useless if separated from the other. There could be no pardon without
confession, and the mere confession, without the bearing away of sin,
would have availed nothing in averting God’s holy displeasure. In
the first Epistle of John, this Apostle thus writes—ver. 8, 9.—“If
we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not
in us. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our
sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” Observe the close
relation in this passage—“If we confess our sins, He is faithful
and just to forgive us our sins.”
Let us unfold some of the evils that result from a neglect of this duty,
and some of the blessings that result from its observance. Sin unconfessed,
tends to remove that holy familiarity which ought always to subsist between
God and the believer. This communion is of the tenderest kind. The communion
between a called, pardoned, and adopted child, and its heavenly Father,
is more close and endearing than even that between a mother and her first-born
child. Standing in the righteousness of the adorable Immanuel, the Father
opens, without reservation, all his heart—pours down the ocean fulness
of his love—communes by the inward voice of the indwelling Spirit
and draws up the affections to Himself. Who can fully enter into that
amazing expression of the Apostle’s, “Beloved of God”?
On God’s part, too, how precious is his own work in the soul of his
child. That lowly view of self—that contrite sigh—that broken
heart—that faint and feeble longing for Christ—that hungering
and thirsting for righteousness—that poverty of spirit—those
broken accents of prayer—that feeble lisping of a child, “Abba,
Father!” O how unutterably dear is it all to the heart of God! But
let the spiritual reader imagine how much of this holy communion is destroyed,
and this confidence weakened, by the remains of guilt upon the conscience,
through the neglect of a full and free confession of sin.
A sense of guilt upon the conscience invariably occasions distant views
of God. The moment Adam became conscious of having sinned, he hid himself
from God’s eye. He sought concealment from the endearing presence
of Him who had been wont to walk in the cool of evening through the bowers
of paradise, in sweet and confiding communion. It is so now. Guilt upon
the conscience, sin unconfessed, imparts misty, gloomy, distorted views
of God. We lose that clear endearing view of his character, which we once
had. We dare not look up with holy, humble boldness. We misinterpret his
dealings—think harshly of his ways—and if providences are dark,
and afflictions come, in a moment we exclaim, ‘I have sinned, and
God is angry.’ And so we seek concealment from God. We sink the Father
in the judge, and the child in the slave.
Another evil that results from sin unconfessed is, the hardening tendency
it produces upon the conscience. To a child of God who has felt and mourned
over the power of sin, we need not stay to prove how hardening is the
tendency of sin. How it crusts the heart with a callousness which no human
power can soften; and which often requires heavy affliction to remove.
Where a child of God, then, neglects the habit of a daily confession of
sin, by slow and almost imperceptible degrees, the conscience loses its
tenderness, and becomes, by this gradual process, so hardened, as at length
to think nothing of a sin which at one period would have filled the soul
with horror and remorse.
One more evil we may mention, and that is, that a neglect of this most
important duty causes a fearful forgetfulness of sin, without the sweet
sense of its forgiveness. The believer loses sight of his sin, not because
he knows it to be pardoned, afresh blotted out, but from a mere carnal
forgetfulness of the sin. The child of God on whose conscience the atoning
blood has been afresh sprinkled, cannot soon forget his sin. O no! Freed
from a sense of its condemnation, delivered from its guilt, and looking
up to the unclouded face of a reconciled God, yet he remembers how far
he could depart from the God that so loved him, and so readily and freely
forgave him. The very pardon of his sin stamps it upon his memory. He
thinks of it, only to admire the love, and adore the grace, and extol
the blood that blotted it out—and thus he is led to go softly all
his days. “My soul has them still in remembrance, and is humbled
in me.” Lam. iii. 20. But the believer who neglects the duty and
the privilege of confession, loses the remembrance of his sin, until brought
under the rod of the covenant; then some deep and heavy chastisement recalls
it to his memory, and fills him with shame, humiliation, and contrition.
In this state, the Eternal Spirit comes into the soul with his restoring
mercies, leads the abased and humbled believer afresh to the “fountain
opened”—God, the God of all comfort, speaks in language of comfort
and says, “I will establish my covenant with you; and you shall know
that I am the Lord: that you may remember, and be confounded, and never
open your mouth any more because of your shame, when I am pacified toward
you for all that you have done, says the Lord God.” Ezek. xvi. 62,
63.
The Blessings that result from a strict observance of daily confession
of sin, are rich and varied. We would present them as in one group. The
conscience retains its tender susceptibility of guilt. Just as a breath
will tarnish a mirror highly polished, so will the slightest aberration
of the heart from God—the smallest sin, leaves its impression upon
a conscience in the habit of a daily unburdening itself in confession,
and of a daily washing in the fountain. Going thus to God, and acknowledging
iniquity over the head of Immanuel—pleading the atoning blood—the
conscience retains its tenderness and its sensitiveness—and sin,
all sin, is viewed as that which God hates, and the soul abhors.
This habit too, keeps, so to speak, a clear account between God and the
believer. Sins daily and hourly committed are not forgotten—they
fade not from the mind, and therefore they need not the correcting rod
to recall them to remembrance. For let us not forget, God will eventually
bring our sins to remembrance. “He will call to remembrance the iniquity.”
Ezek. xxi. 23. David had forgotten his sin against God, and his treacherous
conduct to Uriah, until God sent the prophet Nathan to bring his iniquity
to remembrance. A daily confession then of sin, a daily washing in the
fountain, will preserve the believer from many and perhaps deep afflictions.
This was David’s testimony—“I acknowledged my sin unto
you, and my iniquity have I not hid. I said, I will confess my transgressions
unto the Lord, and you forgave the iniquity of my sin.” Ps. xxxii.
5.
See, then, the close connection between an honest and minute confession
of sin, and the application of the precious blood of Christ. Let the child
of God be encouraged to take all his sins to his heavenly Father. Have
you sinned? Have you taken a single step in departure from God? Is there
the slightest consciousness of guilt? Go at once to the throne of grace—stay
not until you find some secret place for confession—stay not until
you are alone; lift up your heart at once to God, and confess your sin
with the hand of faith upon the great atoning Sacrifice. Open all your
heart to him. Do not be afraid of a full and honest confession. Shrink
not from unfolding its most secret recesses— lay all bare before
his eyes. Do you think he will turn from the exposure? Do you think he
will close his ear against your breathings? O no! Listen to his own encouraging,
persuasive declarations—“Go and proclaim these words toward
the north, and say, Return, backsliding Israel, says the Lord; and I will
not cause my anger to fall upon you: for I am merciful, says the Lord,
and I will not keep anger forever. Only acknowledge your iniquity, that
you have transgressed against the Lord your God.” Jer. iii. 12, 13.
“O Israel, return unto the Lord your God, for you have fallen by
your iniquity. Take with you words, and turn to the Lord; say unto him,
Take away all iniquity, and receive us graciously.” Hos. xiv. 1,
2. “I will heal their backsliding, I will love them freely; for my
anger is turned away from him.” Ver. 4. O what words are these!
Does the eye of the poor backslider fall on this page? And as he now reads
of God’s readiness to pardon—of God’s willingness to receive
back the repenting prodigal—of his yearning after his wandering child—feels
his heart melted, his soul subdued, and struck with that amazing declaration,
“Only acknowledge your iniquity” would dare creep down at his
feet, and weep, and mourn, and confess. O is there one such now reading
this page? then return, my brother, return! God, the God against whom
you have sinned, says, “Return.” Your Father, the Father from
whom you have wandered, is looking out for the first return of your soul,
for the first kindlings of godly sorrow, for the first confession of sin.
Return, my brother, return! God has not turned his back upon you, though
you have turned your back upon him. God has not forgotten to be gracious,
though you have forgotten to be faithful. “I remember you,”—is
his own touching language—“the kindness of your youth, the love
of your espousals.” Jer. ii. 2. O! then, come back; this moment,
come back; the fountain is still open—Jesus is still the same—the
blessed and Eternal Spirit, loving and faithful as ever—God ready
to pardon. Take up then the language of the prodigal and say, “I
will arise and go to my Father, and will say unto him, Father, I have
sinned against heaven and in your sight, and am no more worthy to be called
your son.” “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just
to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”
We now proceed to show how full and entire is the Justification of a believer.
This will not require much amplification—seeing that, if the pardon
of a believing sinner is a full and entire forgiveness it follows that,
so must be his justification. They both result from the same glorious
cause—the perfection of our adorable Lord’s obedience.
Let us briefly enquire what we are to understand by the righteousness
of Christ imputed to a believer, and thus constituting the sole ground
of his acceptance. It is not our intention to view the subject metaphysically,
but in the clear light of God’s own Word. We deprecate the introduction
of a metaphysical and scholastic mode of reasoning in the exhibition of
Divine truth. God’s Word does not require it; it is quite unnecessary
in the investigation of the mind of the Spirit. The evils, too, resulting
from it, are many and dangerous. God’s Word is obscured, mystified,
and often its simple meaning fearfully perverted. The mind in search of
the truth, not being able to follow a metaphysical argument, or to comprehend
the meaning of a scholastic term, becomes perplexed, embarrassed, and
discouraged, and at length gives up the investigation. May it not be a
subject of important enquiry how far the pulpit and the press, in their
efforts to diffuse evangelical knowledge, may be chargeable with the adoption
of a mode of discussing religious truth, far removed from the beautiful
simplicity of the Gospel, and tending to mar its beauty, pervert its meaning,
and impart to the learner crude and misty views of Divine truth? Confident
are we, that that ministry would come clothed with most unction, and that
treatise would be read with more blessing, and that believer would walk
more in peace and joy in the Holy Spirit, where God’s Word was most
honored, most prayerfully studied, and most studiously followed. This
Book tells best and simplest its own wondrous story. But to return from
this digression.
We mean by Justification, or rather, we would say, the Word of God means
by Gospel justification, the imputation of Christ’s infinite and
finished righteousness to a repenting, believing sinner; the making over
of his perfect obedience in behalf of his church to him that believes.
Christ obeyed not for himself, but for his Church. It is an absurdity
to suppose that he obeyed the law for himself—the law of God demanded
no personal obedience from Christ—for he was perfectly holy, had
never sinned, had never broken the law: and to suppose the law exacting
obedience, and holding out its threats to a being who was immaculately
holy, and therefore had never incurred its penalty, is to take a most
obscure and defective view of truth. True, Christ was made under the law,
but it was “to redeem those who were under the law, that we might
receive the adoption of sons.” Gal. iv. 4, 5. If he was obligated
to do anything for himself, as under the personal curse of the law, then
he became incarnate for himself, obeyed for himself, endured the curse
for himself, suffered for himself, died and rose again for himself.
As made under the law, true, he was bound to obey, in its every iota,
that law, but it was for the people for whom he had entered into a covenant
engagement with the Father. In their behalf he kept the Law—for it
was not possible that he could himself break it—Satan came, tried,
and tempted him, and found nothing in him. John xiv. 30. In their behalf
he endured the curse, and suffered the penalty. And on the ground of his
obedience—his obedience, or righteousness imputed to them, in the
same manner in which their sins were imputed to him—they stand before
God, the holy, the heart-searching God, fully and freely “justified
from all things.” “For he has made him to be sin for us, who
knew no sin,” (there is the imputation of our sins to him,) “that
we might be made the righteousness of God in him” (there is the imputation
of his righteousness to us). 2 Cor. v. 21. “He is the kind of high
priest we need because he is holy and blameless, unstained by sin. He
has now been set apart from sinners, and he has been given the highest
place of honor in heaven. He does not need to offer sacrifices every day
like the other high priests. They did this for their own sins first and
then for the sins of the people. But Jesus did this once for all when
he sacrificed himself on the cross.” Hebrews 7:26-27. With this explanation
of the doctrine, let us proceed to unfold it.
The righteousness wrought out by the incarnation, obedience, sufferings,
and death of Christ, is a most glorious righteousness. It took in the
whole law of God. It did not soften down, or ask for a compromise of its
claims. It took the law in its utmost strictness and honored it. It gave
all the law demanded, all it could demand. And what stamped this righteousness
with a glory so great? what enabled the Redeemer to offer an obedience
so perfect? What, but that he was God in our nature! The Law-giver became
the Law-fulfiller. The God became the Substitute—the judge became
the Surety. Behold, then, the justification of a believing sinner! He
stands accepted in the righteousness of Christ with full and entire acceptance.
What says the Holy Spirit? “In the Lord shall all the seed of Israel
be justified, and shall glory.” Isa. xlv. 25. “And by him (the
Lord Jesus) all who believe are justified from all things, from which
you could not be justified by the law of Moses.” Acts xiii. 39. “Accepted
in the Beloved.” Ephes. i. 6. “And you are complete through
your union with Christ. He is the Lord over every ruler and authority
in the universe.” Col. 2:10 “Christ loved the church, and gave
himself for it, that he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing
of water by the Word, that he might present it to himself a glorious church,
not having a spot or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be
holy and without blemish.” Eph. v. 25- 27. “He has made him
to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness
of God in him.” 2 Cor. v. 21. Mark the expression, “Made the
righteousness of God”!
So called because the righteousness which Christ wrought out was a Divine
righteousness, not the righteousness of a created being, of an angel,
or of a superior prophet, else it were blasphemy to call it “the
righteousness of God.” O no! the righteousness in which you stand,
if you “are accepted in the Beloved,” is a more costly and glorious
righteousness than Adam’s, or the highest angel in glory: it is “the
righteousness of God.” The righteousness of the God-Man; possessing
all the infinite merit, and glory, and perfection of Deity. And what seems
still more incredible, the believer is made the righteousness of God in
Christ. Made that righteousness, so that, beholding him in Christ, the
Father can “rest in his love, and rejoice over him with singing.”
Zech. iii. 17. Is it not then we ask, a perfect, a complete justification?
what can be more so? Do not the passages we have quoted prove it? Can
any other meaning be given to them, without divesting them of their beauty
and obvious sense? Would it not be to turn from God’s word, to dishonor
and grieve the Spirit, and to rob the believer of a most influential motive
to holiness, were we to take a less expanded view of this subject than
that which we have taken? Most assuredly it would. Then let the Christian
reader welcome this truth. If it is God’s truth, and we humbly believe
we have proved it to be so—it is not less his privilege than his
duty to receive it.
What consideration shall we urge upon him why he should welcome it? Shall
we say his sanctification is intimately connected with it? and what an
argument should this be with a child of God! To be holy—to be like
God—to be conformed entirely to the will and image of Christ—to
have the temper, the taste, the principles, the daily walk—all like
our blessed Immanuel, who is “the chief among ten thousand, the altogether
lovely.” O! can a believer aspire to a more lofty aim? And this righteousness—this
infinite, this Divine, this finished righteousness, received in the heart
by the power of God the Holy Spirit, broken up to the soul, lived upon
daily, will promote all this: “In your righteousness shall they be
exalted.” Psalm lxxxix. 16. The righteousness of Christ has a most
exalting tendency; it exalts a believer’s view of God, of his character
and perfections; it exalts his view of Jesus, his person, work, and love;
it exalts the believer himself; it takes him out of himself, above and
beyond himself; it exalts his principles, his practice, his affections,
and conforms him to Christ.
Shall we say his happiness is intimately connected with it? And where
is the believer that does not desire to walk happily with God? This is
the attainment the world are eagerly in search of—but the believer
in Christ is its only possessor; he has found it, and found it in Jesus;
he has found it in a renunciation of self-righteousness, and in a humble
reception of Christ; and there is no happiness, worthy of the name, that
is sought and found outside of Jesus. What true happiness can the heart
feel while it is unrenewed, its sins unpardoned, the soul unjustified,
and therefore under condemnation, and exposed to the wrath of a holy and
just God? O dream not of happiness, reader, until you have gone as a repenting
sinner to the cross of Christ; until the atoning blood has been applied
to your conscience, and the Spirit bears his witness to your adoption.
If this, and this only, is the source of all true happiness, then the
more constantly and closely the believer realizes his full and complete
acceptance in the Beloved, the greater must his happiness be. You may
be a son or a daughter of affliction; in this furnace you may be chosen,
Isa. xlviii. 10, and through this furnace it may be the Lord’s holy
will you should pass all your days. You may be a child of poverty, possessing
but little of this world’s comforts, lonely, neglected, despised.
Yet, O look up! you are precious in God’s sight, dear to him as the
apple of his eye; his heart yearns over you with more than a mother’s
exquisite fondness for her child, because he has loved you with an everlasting
love, and, to the praise of the glory of his grace, has “accepted”
you “in the Beloved.” Eph. i. 6. Realize this, and, though rough
and thorny may be your path, and fiery the furnace, and deep your poverty,
and lonely your situation, you shall experience a peace, and a happiness,
to which the world around you is an utter stranger.
Shall we say, the holy influence which a believer is called to exert around
him, will be greatly augmented, and powerfully felt, by an abiding realization
of his full and entire acceptance in Christ? The child of God is “the
salt of the earth,” “the light of the world.” He is surrounded
by moral putrefaction and darkness. By his holy, consistent example, he
is to exert a counteracting influence. He is to be purity where there
is corruption, he is to be light where there is darkness. And if his walk
is consistent, if his life is holy, his example tells, and tells powerfully,
upon an ungodly world. Saints of God catch, as it were, the contagion
of his sanctity. The worldling acknowledges the reality of the Gospel
he professes, and the bold sceptic falls back abashed, and feels, “how
appropriate goodness is.” What then will so elevate his own piety,
and increase the power of his influence, as a realization of his justification
by Christ? O how this commends the religion of Jesus! We will suppose
a Christian parent surrounded by a large circle of unconverted children.
They look to him as to a living Gospel; they look to him for an exemplification
of the truth he believes; they expect to see its influence upon his principles,
his temper, his affections, his whole conduct. What then must be their
impression of the Gospel, if they behold their parent always indulging
in doubts as to his acceptance, yielding to unbelieving fears as to his
calling? Instead of walking in the full assurance of faith, saying with
the apostle, “I know whom I have believed.” 2 Tim. i. 12—instead
of walking in the holy liberty, peace, and comfort of acceptance, there
is nothing but distrust, dread, and tormenting fear. How many a child
has borne this testimony—“The doubts and fears of my parent
have been my great stumbling-block!” O then, for the sake of those
around you—for the sake of your children, your connections, your
friends, your domestics, realize your full, free, and entire acceptance
in Christ.
Is it any marvel then—reviewing our ground—that in speaking
of his beloved and justified people, God employs in his Word language
like this: “All beautiful you are, my darling; there is no flaw in
you.” Song 4:7; “He has not beheld iniquity in Jacob, neither
has he seen perverseness in Israel.” Num. xxiii. 21. Carry out this
thought. Had there been no iniquity in Jacob? Had there been no perverseness
in Israel? Read their histories, and what do they develop but iniquity
and perverseness of the most aggravated kind? And yet, that God should
say he saw no iniquity in Jacob, and no perverseness in Israel, what does
it set forth but the glorious work of the adorable Immanuel—the glory,
the fitness, the perfection of that righteousness, in which they stand
“without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing?” Eph. v. 27; in
themselves vile and worthless—sinful and perverse—deeply conscious
before God of possessing not a claim upon his regard, but worthy only
of his just displeasure, yet counted righteous in the righteousness of
another, fully and freely justified by Christ.
Is this doctrine startling to some? Is it considered too great a truth
to be received by others? Any other Gospel than this, we solemnly affirm,
will never save the soul! The obedience, sufferings, and death of the
God-man, made over to the repenting believing sinner, by an act of free
and sovereign grace, is the only plank on which the soul can safely rest.
Let it attempt the passage across the cold river of death on any other,
and it is gone! On this it may boldly venture, and on this it shall be
safely and triumphantly carried into the quiet and peaceful haven of future
and eternal blessedness. We acknowledge the magnitude of this doctrine;
yet is it not to be rejected because of its greatness. It may be profound,
almost too deeply so, for an angel’s mind; the cherubim may veil
their faces, overpowered with its glory, while yet with eager longings
they desire to look into it—still may the weakest saint of God receive
it, live upon it, walk in it. It is “a deep river, through which
an elephant might swim, and which a lamb might ford.”
Nor let any individual slight it, because worldly men have held it in
unrighteousness. To the heart of a child of God it should not be the less
precious because of this. The abuse of any single truth is no argument
against the soundness or utility of that truth: if so, then might we set
aside well near every doctrine of the cross, because well near every doctrine
of the cross has been abused to unholy purposes. It is a solemn thing
for a believer to overlook any single doctrine, to stand aloof from any
single truth of God’s holy Word, because the pearl has been trampled
under foot of swine—because ungodly men, receiving the truth notionally
in the judgment, and not experimentally in the heart, have walked after
their own lusts, deceiving and deceived. O no, we look not to them for
an exemplification of the great doctrines of grace; nor are we to attribute
their abuse of God’s truth to the legitimate tendency of the truth
itself. This we assign as a reason why we contend so earnestly for experimental
religion: there is no true holiness of heart and of life without it. The
mere prater about doctrine, his head filled with notions, and his heart
with pride and unmortified sin, may walk in the outward garb of Christianity,
deceiving others, and, what at the day of judgment will be most awful,
deceiving himself—but the day of separation, the day of sifting,
will come, when the wheat will be gathered into the garner, and the chaff
will be burned with unquenchable fire.
Let not the reader then turn his back upon a truth, because unholy men
have brought it into reproach—then might he turn his back upon Jesus,
because of the wounds which, again and again, he has received in the house
of his friends. The doctrine of God’s eternal, sovereign, and unconditional
election of a people, his redemption of them by the sacrifice of his Son
Jesus Christ, his particular and effectual calling of them by the Eternal
Spirit, their complete pardon and justification, and their preservation
to eternal glory—these are God’s truths, and not to be rejected.
They come from God, and, when received in the heart, they lead to God;
they have their origin in him, and to him they draw the soul. Precious
truths! How they abase the sinner, how they exalt the dear Redeemer; how
they glorify God, how they empty, humble, and sanctify the soul! We would
not be the individual to speak anything against them, or think slightingly
of them, no, not for our right hand, or for our right eye.
And now, may we not inquire, Have you, dear reader, this robe upon you?
In whose righteousness do you at this moment stand? Is it all merely profession?
Startle not at the question—turn not from it—it is for your
life we ask it. Do you wonder that such a scrutiny into the ground of
your hope should be made? Are you astonished at the solemn fact implied
in this question? Do not be so. Many have lived in the mere outward profession—have
put on Christ in the external garb have talked well of him—have been
baptized in his name—given liberally for his cause, and after all,
have gone into eternity holding up the empty lamp! O marvel not then,
that we repeat the question, In whose righteousness do you at this moment
stand? Mere profession will not save your soul; your being found mingling
among the wise virgins will not secure you an admittance with them into
heaven; your talking respectfully of Jesus will avail you nothing; your
church memberships, your liberality, your irreproachable deportment, your
spotless morality, your regular attendance on the sanctuary, all, all
are vain without the justifying righteousness of the God-man upon you.
What do you know of the broken heart and the contrite spirit? What do
you know of the healing blood of Jesus? What do you know of a sense of
pardon and acceptance? What do you know of the witness of the Spirit?
What do you know of a humble, low, abasing view of yourself? What do you
know of a holy and a close walk with God? What do you know of communion
and fellowship with the Father and his dear Son? In a word, what do you
know of yourself as a helpless, ruined sinner, and of Jesus as a rich,
able, and present Savior? Ponder these solemn questions! The hand that
pens them trembles with awe as it traces them on this page. This is a
day of great profession—a day of great ingathering into the church;
a day when much chaff must necessarily be gathered with the wheat. It
was so in the primitive days of the church, when apostles, inspired by
the Spirit of God, were the men who planted, watered, and gathered in
the sheaves. Shall it then be thought a thing incredible with you that,
in the present day, the minister may be deceived, and the hearer deceived,
and neither of them know it? It solemnly behooves each professing member
of Christ’s church, of every name and denomination, narrowly to scrutinize
his motives, deeply to probe his heart, and closely and habitually to
examine the foundation on which he is building for eternity. Thus shall
he walk, if he be an adopted child, in the sweet and holy realization
of his pardon and acceptance; thus shall he experience the blessedness
of the man whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered; and
thus, too, shall he constantly be “a vessel unto honor, sanctified,
and fit for the Master’s use, and prepared unto every good work.”
There are many and peculiar Blessings which an experimental belief and
realization of this great truth conveys into the soul, a slight glance
at some of which will close this chapter.
First—A consciousness of perfect security, and freedom from condemnation.
Let us not be misunderstood. We mean not to affirm, that a child of God
is secure only as he realizes his pardon and acceptance. Far be it from
us to utter a sentiment like this. Many and long are the seasons of spiritual
darkness and sensible withdrawments of God’s presence, through which
the believer is often called to pass; seasons, during which his hope seems
to have perished, Lam. iii. 18; and God, as he believes, has forgotten
to be gracious, Ps. lxxvii. 9; seasons, during which he cannot look up
as a pardoned sinner, as a justified soul, as an adopted child, and say,
“Abba, Father!” All is midnight gloom to his soul. And while
God seems to have withdrawn, Satan instantly appears. Taking advantage
of the momentary absence of the Lord, for, let it be remembered, it is
not an actual and eternal withdrawment—Satan levels his fiery darts;
suggests hard thoughts of God; tempts the soul to believe the past has
been but a deception, and that the future will develop nothing but darkness
and despair. Satan, that constant and subtle foe, frequently seizes, too,
upon periods of the believer’s history, when the Providences of God
are dark and mysterious—when the path, along which the weary pilgrim
is pressing, is rough and intricate—or, it may be, when he sees not
a spot before him—the way is obstructed, and he is ready to exclaim
with job, “He has fenced up my way that I cannot pass, and he has
set darkness in my paths.” Job xix. 8; or with Jeremiah, “He
has hedged me about, that I cannot get out.” Lam. iii. 7.
Let it not then be forgotten by the soul that walks in darkness and has
no light, that the providential dealings of a covenant God and Father,
which now are depressing the spirits, stirring up unbelief, and casting
a shade over every prospect, may be seized upon by its great enemy, and
appropriated to an occasion of deep and sore temptation. It was thus he
dealt with our blessed Lord, who was in all points tempted as his people,
yet without sin, Heb. iv. 15. Satan, taking advantage of his prolonged
fast, and the weakness of body and hunger which were the consequence—for,
let it ever be borne in mind, God took upon him pure humanity with all
the sympathies of our nature, and with all the weakness which clung to
it presented the temptation in its most pliable form. Luke iv. 2-3. And
if the Head thus was tempted, so will be the member—if the Lord,
so the disciple. And for this very end was our blessed Lord thus tempted,
that he might enter sympathetically into all the circumstances of his
tried and suffering people—“For in that he himself has suffered
being tempted, he is able to support those who are tempted.” Heb.
ii. 28.
But we must not, we dare not, refrain from ascribing this spiritual darkness
to another, and perhaps more obvious cause, we allude to a distant and
careless walk. This will as certainly bring darkness into the soul, with
its painful attendants— unbelief—loss of thoughts of God—slavish
fear—as if an individual were to close every inlet of a habitation
to the rays of the sun, and sit down amid the gloom and the obscurity
with which he has enshrouded himself. There is no true spiritual light
but that which beams from the Sun of Righteousness; and to this every
inlet of the soul must be open. All other light is false—it is but
like the treacherous beacon erected upon a rock-bound coast, for the purpose
of beguiling to its shore the unsuspecting bark. To enjoy this light then,
a believer must dwell near the Sun, he must live close to Christ: he must
live the life of daily faith upon him—he must look away from himself
to Jesus—he must walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing—he
must be found prayerful and diligent in the means; while, rising above
them, he draws all his light, life, and peace from the God of the means.
O what losers are they who walk as Peter walked—at a distance from
their Lord—what seasons of endearing communion—what tokens of
love—what visits of mercy they rob themselves of! What losers are
they who neglect the means of grace—closet prayer—church fellowship—the
communion of saints—the blessed ordinances of baptism and the Lord’s
supper—these channels, through which a covenant God conveys such
untold blessings into the soul of his dear child! For “the secret
of the Lord is with those who fear him;” and to fear him, is not
to dread him as a slave, but as a child to walk in all the commandments
and ordinances of the Lord blamelessly. O! what losers then are such!
While penning this closing part of the chapter, the writer was sent for
to administer spiritual consolation to one on the confines of eternity,
who, at an early period of her life, professed publicly her attachment
to the Lord, but who, after a time, walked no more with Jesus; and now
the season of sickness, and probably of death, had come! And O! could
he have gathered every wandering, every backsliding, every careless, worldly
professor of Christ around that bed, to have listened to the deep regrets,
the bitter self-reproaches, the piercing cries for pardon, that fell from
her lips, and to have witnessed, too, the deep anguish that wrung her
agonized bosom, how more powerfully would they have warned, and how more
persuasively would they have pleaded, than the page which now warns and
pleads with the careless, prayerless, worldly professor! Christian professor!
are you walking at a distance from Christ, if following him at all? Are
you opening your heart to the world—laying yourself out for its entanglements?
Are you conforming to it in your spirit, your policy, your maxims, your
dress, your pursuits, your friendship, your religion? Are you neglecting
the means of grace, the sanctuary of God—the preaching of the Gospel,
the prayer-meetings, the communion of saints? Are you neglecting prayer—family
prayer—social prayer—sanctuary prayer—most of all, closet
prayer?
O, if so, how fearfully you are turning your back upon God! how wantonly
are you trampling your precious privileges under foot! What a harvest
of sorrow are you sowing for a dying hour! what reason have you to tremble,
lest after all, Christ has never been formed in your heart, the hope of
glory! What is your present hope? Is it merely a profession? Give it up—abandon
it as worthless, and as a sinner undone, a sinner without hope, go to
Jesus. A mere profession will never save you. A bare supposition will
only delude you. You must have the witness of the Spirit. But to the soul
following hard after God, we would say, there are two ‘exceeding
great and precious promises,’ which a child of God should ever keep
in view: “Unto the upright there arises light in the darkness.”
Ps. cxii. 4; “Unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of Righteousness
arise with healing in his wings.” Mal. iv. 2. Thus it is evident
that to those who walk uprightly before God—upright in heart, as
well as upright in outward conduct—upright in principle as well as
upright in practice—and to those who walk in the holy filial fear
of God, the Lord has his choicest covenant blessings. But to return:
We say not, then, that a momentary sense of God’s withdrawment from
the believer affects his actual security in the atoning blood: this, nothing
can disturb. The safety of a child of God hinges not upon a frame or a
feeling, the ever varying and fitful pulses of a believing soul. O no!
The covenant rests upon a surer basis than this; the child of the covenant
is sealed with a better hope and promise. He may change, but his covenant
God never; his feelings may vary, but his Father’s love never veers:
He loved him from all eternity, and that love extends to all eternity.
As God never loved his child for anything he saw, or should see, in that
child, so his love never changes for all the fickleness, sinfulness, and
unworthiness, he daily and hourly discovers. O where would the soul fly
but for this truth? When it takes into account the sins, the follies,
the departures, the flaws of but one week; yes, when it reviews the history
of but one day, and sees enough sin in a thought to sink it to eternal
and just perdition, but for an unchangeable God, to what consolation would
it resort?
But what forms the great security of the believer? what, but the atoning
blood? This, and this only. The Father, beholding his child in his beloved
Son, washed and clothed, pardoned and justified, can “rest in his
love, and rejoice over him with singing.” The atonement guarantees
his eternal safety. What formed the security of Noah and his family, when
the deluge of God’s wrath descended upon an ungodly world? The ark
in which God had shut him. What formed the security of the children of
Israel in Egypt, when the destroying angel passed through the camp waving
in his hand the weapon of death? The blood of the Pascal lamb, sprinkled
on the lintel and doorposts of their dwellings; and where this sacred
sign was seen, into that house he dared not enter, but passed on to do
the work of death where no blood was found. Exactly what the ark was to
Noah, and the blood of the lamb was to the children of Israel, is the
atoning blood of Christ to the believing soul. It forms his eternal security.
Reader! is that blood applied to you? Are you washed in it? Is it upon
you at this moment? Precious blood! precious Savior who shed it! precious
faith that leads to it! how it washes away all sin! how it lightens the
conscience of its burden, heals the heart of its wound—dispels the
mist, and brings down the unclouded sunlight of God’s reconciled
countenance in the soul! O, adore the love and admire the grace that opened
the fountain, and led you to bathe, all guilty, polluted, and helpless
as you were, beneath its cleansing stream! and with Cowper let us sing,
“E’er since by faith I saw the stream
Your flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be until I die.
“Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
I’ll sing your power to save;
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave.”
Second—deeper views of sin’s exceeding sinfulness, may be regarded
as another invaluable blessing, resulting from a realizing apprehension
of the atoning blood. No child of God, if he is advancing in the divine
life, but must mourn over his defective views of sin. The holier he grows,
the more sensible he is of this: yes, may we not add? the deeper the view
of his own vileness, the stronger the evidence of his growth in sanctification.
A growing hatred of sin, of little sins, of great sins, of all sin—sin
detected in the indwelling principle, as well as sin observable in the
outward practice, O, it is one of the surest symptoms of the onward progress
of the soul in its spiritual course. The believer himself may not be sensible
of it, but others see it; to him it may be like a retrograde, to an observer
it is an evidence of advance. The child of God is not the best judge of
his own spiritual growth. He may be rapidly advancing when not sensible
of it; the tree may be growing downwards, its roots may be expanding and
grasping more firmly the soil in which they are concealed, and yet the
appearance of growth not be very apparent. There is an inward, concealed,
yet effectual growth of grace in the soul; the believer may not be sensible
of it, and even others may overlook it, but God sees it: it is his own
work, and he does not think disdainfully of it.
God, in his gracious dealings with the believer, often works by contraries.
He opens the eye of his child to the deep depravity of the heart; discloses
to him the chamber of imagery; reveals to him the sin unthought of, unsuspected,
unrepented, unconfessed, that lies deeply embedded there. And why? Only
to make his child more holy; to compel him to repair to the mercy-seat,
there to cry, there to plead, there to wrestle for its subjection, its
mortification, its crucifixion. And through this, as it were, circuitous
process, the believer presses on to high and higher degrees of holiness.
In this way, too, the believer earnestly seeks for humility, by a deep
discovery which the Lord gives him of the pride of his heart; for meekness
by a discovery of petulance; for resignation to God’s will, by a
sense of restlessness and impatience; and so on, through all the graces
of the blessed Spirit. Thus there is a great growth in grace, when a believer’s
views of sin’s exceeding sinfulness, and the inward plague, are deepening.
But how are these views of sin to be deepened? By constant, close views
of the blood of Christ—realizing apprehensions of the Atonement.
This is the only glass through which sin is seen in its greater magnitude.
Let the Christian reader, then, deal much and often with the blood of
Christ. O! that we should need to be urged to this; that, once having
bathed in the “fountain opened,” we should ever look to any
other mode of healing and of sanctification! For, let it never be forgotten,
that a child of God is as much called to live on Christ for sanctification
as for pardon: “Sanctify them through your truth.” And who is
the truth? Jesus himself answers, “I am the truth.” Then we
are to live on Jesus for sanctification: and happy and holy is he who
thus lives on Jesus. The fulness of grace that is treasured up in Christ,
why is it there? For the sanctification of his people—for the subduing
of all their sins. O forget not, then, that he is the Refiner, as well
as the Savior; the Sanctifier as well as the Redeemer.
Take your indwelling corruptions to him; take the besetting sin, the weakness,
the infirmity, of whatever nature it is, at once to Jesus: his grace can
make you all that he would have you to be. Remember, too, that this is
one of the great privileges of the life of faith—living on Christ
for the daily subduing of all sin. This is the faith that purifies the
heart; and it purifies by leading the believer to live out of himself
upon Christ. To this blessed and holy life our Lord Jesus referred, when
speaking of its necessity in order to the spiritual fruitfulness of the
believer: “Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit
of itself; except it abide in the vine; no more can you, except you abide
in me. I am the vine, you are the branches: he that abides in me, and
I in him, the same brings forth much fruit: for without me you can do
nothing,” John xv. 4, 5.
O that the church of Christ, and each individual member, would but realize
this truth, that simpler, closer, more experimental views of Jesus would
essentially strengthen the tone of inward spirituality and comfort! The
great secret of all comfort in seasons of affliction, is to take the affliction,
as it comes, simply to Christ; and the great secret of all holiness, is
to take the corruption, as it rises, simply to Christ. It is this living
upon Christ for all he needs, this going to Christ under all circumstances
and at all seasons, which forms the happy and holy life of a child of
God. There is no other path for him to walk in. The moment he turns from
Christ, he becomes like a vessel loosed from its moorings, and driven
at the mercy of the winds from billow to billow. Christ must be all in
all to him. Friends, domestic comforts, church privileges, ordinances,
means of grace, nothing must suffice for Jesus. And why does the Lord
so frequently discipline the soul? why remove friends, why blight domestic
comforts, why rob us of church privileges, why close up the ordinances,
and write death upon the means of grace? O why, but to open away through
which he himself might enter the believer, and convince that lonely, bereaved,
and desolate heart, that he is a substitute for everything, while nothing
shall ever be a substitute for him! He will have the supreme affection
of his saints; they shall find their all in him; and to this end he sends
afflictions, crosses, and disappointments, to wean them from their idols,
and draw them to himself.
Sometimes, in order to learn experimentally this holy truth, that Christ
must be every thing, the Lord, the Spirit, leads back the believer to
first principles! He is led to retrace his steps, go over the ground he
has traveled, and find his comfort and his evidence at the very spot from
where he first set out. He has to come as at first, a poor, empty, helpless
sinner, hanging on a full, rich, and all-sufficient Savior. After all
he has passed through of severe trial and fiery temptation, after all
the storms and tempests, the conflicts and the victories, he is compelled
to betake himself afresh to Jesus, empty and helpless as when first he
cried for mercy. This, let us assure the reader, is no small proof of
God’s love, thus to be led back to first principles. Let him not
be discouraged if the Lord is dealing thus with him now; let him count
it all joy if his Great Teacher has seen fit to put him in a lower class,
and has given him the first lesson of Christian experience to learn—that
lesson is the first and the last lesson. Happy and holy is he who thoroughly
learns it. The author will not soon lose the impression left upon his
mind by an interview with that eminent servant of Christ, the late Rev.
Rowland Hill, a few months previous to his death, who, when speaking of
his then state of mind, remarked in his peculiarly solemn manner—“Sir,
when I enter heaven, I shall enter it, crying, ‘God be merciful to
me a sinner!”’ Coming from such a man, and at such a time, it
was an affecting and striking testimony to the blessedness of being led
back to first principles.
Third—a conformity to the death of Christ may be regarded as another
and a great blessing, resulting from a personal realization of the atoning
blood. Indeed, we dare affirm, that conformity to his death can only be
obtained by close, individual, realizing views of the cross. It is in
the cross sin is seen in its exceeding sinfulness. It is in the cross
the holiness of God shines with such ineffable luster. This is the sun
that throws its light upon these two great objects—the holiness of
God, the sinfulness of the sinner. Veil this sun, remove the cross, blot
out the Atonement, and all our knowledge of holiness and sin vanishes
into distant and shadowy views. Faith, dealing much and closely with the
cross of Christ, will invariably produce in the soul conformity to his
death. This was the great desire of the apostle: “That I may know
him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings,
being made conformable unto his death.” Phil. iii. 10. This was the
noble prayer of this holy man. He desired crucifixion with Christ; a crucifixion
to sin, to indwelling sin, to sin in its every shape, to sin in principle,
sin in temper, sin in worldly conformity, sin in conversation, sin in
thought, yes, sin in the very glance of the eye. He desired not only a
crucifixion of sin, of one particular sin, but of all sin; not only the
sin that most easily beset him, the sin that he daily saw and felt, and
mourned over, but the sin that no eye saw but God’s—the sin
of the indwelling principle—the root of all sin—the sin of his
nature.
This is to have fellowship with Christ in his sufferings. Jesus suffered
as much for the subduing of the indwelling principle of sin, as for the
pardon of the outbreakings of that sin in the daily practice. Have we
fellowship with him in these sufferings? There must be a crucifixion of
the indwelling power of sin. To illustrate the idea: if the root be allowed
to strengthen and expand, and take a deeper and firmer grasp, what more
can we expect than that the tree will shoot upward, and branch out on
either hand? To cut off the outward branches is not the proper method
to stay the growth of the tree: the root must be uncovered, and the axe
laid to it. Outward sins may be cut off, and even honestly confessed and
mourned over, while the concealed principle, the root of the sin, is overlooked,
neglected, and allowed to gather strength and expansion.
We do not assert that the inherent evil of a believer will ever be entirely
eradicated, in his present earthly life. To expect this, would be to expect
what God’s Word has not declared: but that it may be greatly subdued
and conquered, its power weakened and mortified, this the Word of God
leads us to hope for and aim after. How is this to be attained? Faith
dealing frequently and closely with Christ—the atoning blood upon
the conscience—the “fountain opened” daily resorted to—the
believer sitting constantly at the foot of the cross—gazing upon
it with an eye of steady, unwavering faith—“looking unto Jesus.”
In this posture, sin, all sin—the sin of the heart, the sin of the
practice—is mourned over, wept over, confessed, mortified, crucified.
Let the reader again be reminded, that all true crucifixion of sin springs
from the cross of Christ.
Fourth—a most powerful incentive to prayer is found in a close and
realizing view of the atoning blood. What encouragement does it present
to this blessed and holy life of communion with God! the atoning blood!
the mercy-seat sprinkled over! the High Priest before the throne! the
cloud of incense constantly ascending! the Father well pleased! What can
more freely invite the soul that pants for close and holy communion with
God? And when the atoning blood is realized upon the conscience, when
pardon and acceptance are sealed upon the heart by the Eternal Spirit—O
then what a persuasion to draw near the throne of grace has the believer
in Christ! Then, there is no consciousness of guilt to keep the believer
back; no dread of God; no trembling apprehensions of a repulse from God.
God is viewed through the cross as reconciled, and as standing in the
endeared relationship, and wearing the inviting smile, of a Father. With
such an altar, such a High Priest, such atoning blood, and such a reconciled
God, what an element should prayer be to a believer in Christ! Let the
soul, depressed, burdened, tried, tempted, as it may be, draw near the
mercy-seat: God delights to hear, delights to answer. Taking in the hand
the atoning blood, pleading the infinite merit of Christ, reminded the
Father of what his Son has accomplished, of his own gracious promise to
receive and favorably answer the petition endorsed with the name, and
presented in behalf of that Son—the feeblest child of God, the most
disconsolate, the most burdened, may approach and open all the heart to
a prayer-hearing and prayer-answering God. Let the atoning blood be strenuously
pleaded, let the precious and infinite merit of Christ be fully urged,
and the blessing petitioned for will be obtained.
May not this be assigned as a reason why so few of our petitions are answered,
why so little blessing is obtained, the faint pleading of the atoning
blood? There is so feeble a recognition of the blessed way of access,
so little wrestling with the precious blood, so little looking by faith
to the cross, the dear name of Immanuel so seldom urged, and when urged
so coldly mentioned—O! is it any marvel that our prayers return to
us unanswered, the petition ungranted, the draft on the full treasury
of his love unhonored? The Father loves to be reminded of his beloved
Son; the very breathing of the name to him is music; the very waving of
the censer of infinite merits to him is fragrant. He delights to be pressed
with this plea; it is a plea at all times prevalent; it is a plea He cannot
reject; it glorifies himself, honors his Son, while it enriches him who
urges it.
And O, in the absence of all other pleas, what a mercy to come with a
plea like this! Who can fully estimate it? No plea has the poor believer
springing from himself: he searches, but nothing can he find on which
to rest a claim; all within is vile, all without is marred by sin; unfaithfulness,
ingratitude, departure, do but make up the history of the day. But in
Christ he sees that which he can urge, and in urging which God will hear
and answer. “Having, therefore, brethren, boldness to enter into
the holiest by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way, which he has
consecrated for us, through the veil, that is to say, his flesh; and having
a High Priest over the house of God; let us draw near with a true heart
in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience,
and our bodies washed with pure water.” Heb. x. 19-22.
Fifth—We would allude but to one other blessing growing out of the
atonement realized—the spring it gives to all holy evangelical obedience.
The great impelling motive of all Gospel obedience is, the love of Christ
in the heart. David acknowledged this principle when he prayed, “I
will run the way of your commandments, when you shall enlarge my heart.”
Psalm cxix. 32. The apostle admits it when he says, “The love of
Christ constrains us.” In order to walk as an obedient child, to
bear the daily cross, and yield obedience to the law of Christ, to delight
in the precepts as in the doctrines of God’s truth, the atoning blood
must be realized. How easy and how sweet will then become the commandments
of the Lord! Duties will be viewed as privileges, and the yoke felt to
be no yoke, and the cross felt to be no cross.
If these are the inestimable blessings connected with personal and close
realizing views of the blood of Atonement, surely the Christian reader
will strive to live near the fountain: this is the only spot where his
soul shall flourish. As the gentle flower which blooms unseen by the side
of some veiled fountain, is, from the constant moisture it receives, always
beautiful and fragrant, so is that believing soul the most fruitful, holy,
spiritual, and devoted, who daily dwells by the side, yes, in the “fountain
opened for sin and uncleanness.” We see not how a child of God can
be fruitful otherwise. A sweet and abiding consciousness of pardon and
acceptance is essential to spiritual fruitfulness. No believer can advance
in the Divine life, wage a daily war with the innumerable foes that oppose
him, and be fruitful in every good work, who is perpetually in search
of evidence of his adoption. We need all our time, all our energies, all
our means, in order to vanquish the spiritual Philistines who obstruct
our way to the heavenly Canaan: we have none to send in search of evidences,
lest while they have gone the bridegroom comes! O then to know that all
is right—the thick cloud blotted out—the soul wrapped in the
robe of righteousness—ready to enter in to the marriage supper of
the Lamb! To die will be quite enough: to face and grapple with the King
of Terrors will be sufficient employment for the spirit struggling to
be free: no time, no strength, no energy then to search for evidences.
Let not the professor of Christ leave the “sealing” of his pardon
and acceptance to that fearful hour; but let him earnestly seek it now,
that when he comes to die, he may have nothing to do but to die; and that
will be quite enough.