Part 8 (1/2)
We should vastly like to hear Peter's reply. One thing is certain, the power of the Holy Ghost accompanied the preaching. He set His seal to it, and that is enough. ”G.o.d commandeth _all men, everywhere_, to repent.” Woe to all who refuse.
We have already referred to the preaching of the blessed apostle of the Gentiles, and the great teacher of the Church of G.o.d. He himself, referring to his ministry at Ephesus, declares in the audience of the elders, ”I kept back nothing that was profitable, but have shewed you, and have taught you publicly, and from house to house, testifying both to the Jews, and also to the Greeks, repentance toward G.o.d, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ” (Acts xx. 20, 21). So also, in his pungent address to Agrippa, he says, ”I was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision; but shewed first unto them of Damascus, and at Jerusalem, and throughout all the coasts of Judaea, and then to the Gentiles, that they should repent and turn to G.o.d, and do works meet for repentance.”
Thus we have a body of evidence, drawn from Scripture, such as cannot be gainsaid, proving the universal and abiding necessity of repentance. ”G.o.d commandeth all men, everywhere, to _repent_.” There is no avoiding this. Let men beware how they set it aside. No system of theology can be sound that denies the responsibility of the sinner to repent and turn to G.o.d, and do works meet for repentance.
We have digressed; but the digression was needful, and we now return to our theme.
The case of the penitent thief furnishes a very fine ill.u.s.tration of Peter's weighty sentence, ”Repent and be converted.” It teaches us in a clear and forcible manner, the true meaning of repentance and conversion--two subjects so little understood, so sadly clouded by false teaching.
The human heart is ever p.r.o.ne to take divine things by the wrong end; and when false theology combines with this tendency of the heart, by presenting things in a one-sided manner, the moral effect upon the soul is something terrible. Hence it is that, when men are called upon in the gospel message to repent and turn to G.o.d, they think it needful to set about doing something or other, in the shape of reading, praying, and attending upon the ordinances and offices of religion, so called. Thus they become occupied with their doings instead of judging their state.
This is a fatal mistake--the result of the combined influence of self-righteousness and bad theology--these fruitful sources of darkness and misery to precious souls, and of serious damage to the truth of G.o.d.
It is perfectly marvellous to note the varied forms in which self-righteousness clothes itself. Indeed so varied are these forms that one would scarcely recognize it to be what it really is.
Sometimes it looks like humility, and speaks largely of the evil and danger of being too presumptuous. Then again, it a.s.sumes the garb and adopts the language of what is called experimental religion, which, very often, is nothing more than intense self-occupation. At other times, it expresses itself in the threadbare formularies of systematic divinity--that stumbling-block of souls and the sepulchre of divine revelation.
What then is repentance? It is, in one of its grand elements, the thorough judgment of self--of its history and its ways. It is the complete breaking up of the entire system of self-righteousness and the discovery of our complete wreck, ruin and bankruptcy. It is the sense of personal vileness, guilt, and danger--a sense produced by the mighty action of the Word and Spirit of G.o.d upon the heart and conscience. It is a hearty sorrow for sin, and a loathing of it for its own sake.
True, there are other features and elements in genuine repentance.
There is a change of mind as to self, and the world, and G.o.d. And further, there are various degrees in the depths and intensity of the exercise. But, for the present, we confine ourselves to that deeply important feature of repentance ill.u.s.trated in the touching narrative of the penitent thief, which we may term, in one word, self-judgment.
This must be insisted upon constantly. We greatly fear it is sadly lost sight of in much of our modern preaching and teaching. In our efforts to make the gospel simple and easy, we are in danger of forgetting that ”G.o.d commandeth all men everywhere to repent.” The sinner must be made to feel that he is a sinner, a lost sinner, a guilty sinner, a h.e.l.l-deserving sinner. He must be made to feel that sin is a terrible thing in the sight of G.o.d; so terrible, that nothing short of the death of Christ could atone for it--so terrible, that all who die unpardoned must inevitably be d.a.m.ned--must spend a dreary, never-ending eternity in the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone.
Is there, then, anything meritorious in repentance? Is there anything to build upon or to boast in? Has it aught to do with the ground of our salvation, our righteousness, or our acceptance with G.o.d? As well might we inquire if the consciousness of bankruptcy could form the basis of a man's credit or future fortune. No, no, reader; repentance, in its deepest and most intensified form, has nothing to do with the ground of our pardon. How could the sense of guilt have aught to do with the ground of pardon? How could the feelings of a drowning man have aught to do with the life-boat that saves him? Or how could the agonies of a man in a house on fire have aught to do with the fire-escape by which he descends from the burning pile?
Look at the case of the thief on the cross. Hearken to his words: ”Dost thou not fear G.o.d, seeing thou art in the same condemnation?
_And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our deeds._”
Here are the accents of a genuine repentance, ”we indeed justly.” He felt and owned that he was justly condemned; that he was reaping only ”the due reward of his deeds.” Was there anything meritorious in this?
By no means. It was the judgment of himself, the condemnation of his ways, the sense of his guilt. And this was right. It was the sure precursor of conversion to G.o.d. It was the fruit of the Spirit's work in his soul, and enabled him to appreciate G.o.d's salvation. It was the hearty acknowledgment of his own just condemnation; and, most surely, this could in no wise contribute to his righteousness before G.o.d. It is utterly impossible that the sense of guilt could ever form the basis of righteousness.
Still, there must be repentance; and the deeper the better. It is well that the plough should do its work in breaking up the fallow ground, and making deep the furrows in which the incorruptible seed of the Word may take root. We do not believe that any one had ever to complain that the ploughshare entered too deeply into the soul. Nay, we feel a.s.sured that the more we are led down into the profound depths of our own moral ruin, the more fully we shall appreciate the righteousness of G.o.d which is by faith of Jesus Christ, unto all, and upon all them that believe.
But, be it well understood, repentance is not doing this or that. What did the thief do? What could he do? He could not move hand or foot.
And yet he was truly repentant. He is handed down, on the page of history, as ”the penitent thief.” Yes, he was penitent; and his penitence expressed itself in the unmistakable accents of self-judgment. Thus it must ever be. There must be the judgment of sin, sooner or later; and the sooner, the better; and the deeper, the better.
And what then? What is the divine order? ”Repent, and be converted.”
”Repent, and turn to G.o.d.” Beauteous order! It is conviction and conversion. It is the discovery of self and its ruin, and the discovery of G.o.d and His remedy. It is condemning myself and justifying G.o.d. It is finding out the emptiness of self, and finding out the fulness of Christ. It is learning the force and application of those few words, ”Thou hast destroyed thyself; but in Me is thy help.”
And see how all this comes out in the brief but comprehensive record of the thief. No sooner does he give expression to the sense of his own just condemnation, than he turns to that blessed One who was hanging beside him, and bears the sweet testimony, ”This man hath done nothing amiss.” Here he gives a flat contradiction to the whole world.
He joins issue with the chief priests, elders, and scribes, who had delivered up the holy One as a malefactor. They had declared, ”If he were not a malefactor, we would not have delivered him up unto thee.”
But the dying thief declares, ”This man hath done nothing amiss.” Thus he stands forth in clear and decided testimony to the spotless humanity of the Lord Jesus Christ--that grand truth which lies at the very base of ”the great mystery of G.o.dliness.” He turns from a guilty self to a spotless Christ; and he tells the world that it had made a terrible mistake in crucifying the Lord of glory.
And was not this a good work? Yes, truly, the very best work that any one could do. To bear a full, clear, bold testimony to Christ, is the most acceptable and fragrant service that any mortal can render to G.o.d. Millions bestowed in charity, continents traversed in the interests of philanthropy, a lifetime spent in the dreary exercises of mechanical religiousness--all these things put together are as the small dust of the balance when compared with one word of heartfelt, genuine, Spirit-taught testimony to G.o.d's beloved Son. The poor thief could do nothing and give nothing; but oh, he was permitted to enjoy the richest and rarest privilege that could possibly fall to the lot of any mortal, even the privilege of bearing witness to Christ, when the whole world had cast Him out, when one of His own disciples had denied Him, another had sold Him, and all had forsaken Him. This, indeed, was service; this was work; a service and a work which shall live in the records and the memory of heaven when the proudest monuments of human genius and benevolence shall have crumbled and sunk in eternal oblivion.
But we have some further lessons to learn from the lips of the dying malefactor. Not only does he bear a bright and blessed testimony to the spotless humanity of Christ, but he also owns Him as Lord and King; and this, too, at a moment, and amid a scene when, to nature's view, there was not a single trace of lords.h.i.+p or royalty. ”He said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom.”
Reader, think of this! Think of one who had, as it were, a moment before, been railing on the dying Saviour, now owning Him as Lord and King! Truly this was divine work. Surely this was real conversion--a true turning to G.o.d. ”Lord, remember _me_.” Oh, how unspeakably precious is this golden chain with its three links! How lovely to see a poor worthless, guilty, h.e.l.l-deserving ”_me_” linked on to the divine Saviour by that one word, ”_remember_!”