A Confessing Sinner, and a Forgiving God

Next Part A Confessing Sinner, and a Forgiving God 2

"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." 1 John 1:8, 9

Perfection in Christ the Scriptures are full of; perfection in man the Scriptures know not. The whole testimony of God in his word is to perfection in Christ. Every Scripture that speaks of his Godhead declares his perfection—for what is there but perfection in Godhead? And every passage that speaks of his humanity declares his perfection—for if he had not had a perfect human nature, he could not have offered that nature a sacrifice for sin. As the Lamb of God, without spot, or blemish, or any such thing, he is "holy; harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners, and made higher than the heavens." (Heb. 7:26.) If there is any perfection in the church, it is only found in Christ; by her having an eternal and vital union with him.

But as to man, that fallen creature, the whole testimony of God's word is to the depth of his apostasy. The Scripture positively declares, "There is none righteous, no, not one—there is none that understands, there is none that seeks after God—they are all gone out of the way, they are together become unprofitable; there is none that does good, no, not one." (Rom. 3:10-12.) "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." (Jer. 17:9.) And lest we should fancy, that when the blessed Spirit had regenerated and taken possession of a man, making his body his temple, then there was some perfection to be found in his heart, the Scripture brings before our eyes the awful falls and sad departures of God's most highly favored saints—Noah, Lot, Abraham, Moses, David, and Solomon. These blots are recorded against God's eminent saints, to put down that false notion, that there is anything like perfection in the creature.

And yet there are those who indulge in the wild dream of human perfectibility. There are those who even boast that they have attained to perfection. And there were such doubtless in John's day. There were, in his time, proud, ignorant, blind, deluded wretches, who said that they had cleansed their heart from all evil, that perfection dwelt in them, and that sin was no more to be found in them. Some of these were Pharisees, completely ignorant of the requirements of God's holy law, thoroughly unacquainted with the depth of man's fall. And others were dry doctrinalists, who could speak much about Christ; but, knowing nothing of the workings of depravity in their own nature, overlooked all the heavings and boilings of the corrupt fountain within; and because they read of the church's perfection in Christ, claimed unsinning perfection to themselves.

Against these characters John deals this heavy blow; against those who claim this perfection he brings out this sharp sword, and cuts them down with this overwhelming stroke, "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." Talk about your Christianity—talk about your religion—talk about your standing—and say, "I have no sin," you are a deceiver, John boldly declares—"so far from being, as you think you are, a perfect Christian, the very truth is not in you; you are nothing but a deceived, awfully deceived character." But he brings out, with the other hand, consolation for the people of God, who feel distressed on account of their inward guilt and sin. Thus while, on the one hand, he cuts down the perfectionist, legal or evangelical—on the other, he raises up the poor, condemned, drooping saint, who is bowed down with a sense of his guilt and shame; and opening the rich cordial of gospel consolation, says, "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."

These, then, with God's blessing, will be the two leading features of my subject this evening.

I. John's declaration—"If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us."

II. That comforting cordial for poor, bowed down, guilty creatures—"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."

I. John's declaration—"If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." Man, in a state of nature, whether he be in profanity or in a profession, knows nothing of the real character of sin. God indeed has not left himself without witness in the human heart; natural conscience, where it is not seared as with a hot iron, bears testimony against sin. But its hideous nature, its awful depths, its subtlety, its workings, its movements, its cravings, its lustings; the heights to which it rises, the depths to which it sinks—no man is vitally and experimentally acquainted with sin thus, except that man into whose heart light has shone, and into whose conscience life has come. There is a veil over man's heart by nature—a veil of ignorance, of delusion, of unbelief, of self-deception; and as long as that "veil remains not taken away in the reading of the Old Testament," as the apostle speaks, (2 Cor. 3:14,) nothing is seen of the purity and perfection of God, or of the spirituality and breadth of his holy law, and nothing is known of the deep sinfulness and corruption of the creature.

But when the Lord the Spirit takes a man really and vitally in hand; when he truly begins his sovereign work of grace upon the soul, he commences by opening up to the astonished eyes of the sinner something of the real nature of sin. I do not mean to say, he discovers to the sinner at first the whole depth of the malady; he rather deals with him as the wise physician deals with his patient. The patient comes with an incurable disease; the physician sees in a moment the nature of the malady; he knows that death has laid hold of him, and that a few months will close his mortal career. But he does not tell him so at first; he begins to open up the case, wears a solemn countenance, hints to him his condition; but reserves his deeper admonitions for a future occasion, that he may gradually let him into the awful secret, that he may by degrees unfold to him that he is on the borders of the grave, and that the green turf will soon close over his bones.

Thus the blessed Spirit, in his first dealings with the sinner's conscience, does not open up to him the depth of the malady. He makes him indeed feel that the whole head is sick, the whole heart faint; he discovers to him the purity of God, the breadth and spirituality of the law, and, correspondingly, a sense of iniquity in himself; he brings upon his conscience outward transgressions, and lays upon it the guilt of those sins which are open to the eye, and which are the more conspicuous branches that spring out of so deep a root. But, after a time, he begins to take him, as he took the prophet Ezekiel, into "the chambers of imagery," and shows him greater things than these. He not only shows him the huge, high, wide-spreading branches of sin, but bids him look down and see how deeply-rooted sin is in his very being; that sin is not an accident, a faint blot that may soon be washed out; a something on the surface, like a skin disease, that may be healed by a simple plaster, or gentle ointment. He shows him that sin is seated in his very bones; that this deep-rooted malady has taken possession of him; that he is a sinner to his very heart's core; that every thought, every word, every action of man's whole being is one mass of sin, filth, and pollution.

And if he attempts, as most awakened sinners do attempt, to purify himself, to ease his guilt, by lopping off a few outside branches; if he attempts to wash himself clean from iniquity, the Spirit will teach him the meaning of Job's words, "Though I wash myself with snow water, and make my hands ever so clean; yet shall you plunge me in the ditch, and my own clothes shall abhor me." (Job. 9:30, 31.) Until at last God brings him to this spot, that he is a sinner throughout; yes, that he is the chief of sinners; that every evil lodges in his heart, and the seed of every crime dwells in his fallen nature.

When a man is brought here, he is brought to the place of the stopping of mouths—his own righteousness is effectually cut to pieces; his hopes of salvation by the works of the law are completely removed from under him. Those rotten props, those vain buttresses are cut away by the hand of the Spirit from the sinking soul, that he may fall into himself one mass of confusion and ruin. And until he is brought here he really can know nothing of a free-grace salvation, of the super-aboundings of grace over the aboundings of sin, of God's electing love, of Christ's substitution and suretyship, of his atoning blood, his justifying righteousness, and dying love; he can know nothing of the rich provisions of almighty power and eternal mercy that are lodged in the fullness of a covenant Head. He has no eyes to see, no ears to hear, no heart to feel, no arms to embrace a whole Christ, a precious Christ, a Savior from the wrath to come; who has stood in the sinner's place and stead, made full atonement for sin, fulfilled the law, brought in everlasting righteousness, and justified the ungodly. He cannot receive this precious Savior who "of God is made unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption," until he has fallen and been buried in the ruins of guilt and shame.

Now, such a character as this will never say, "I have no sin. A man taught by the Spirit, who has a living conscience, who feels the workings of godly fear, who has seen an end of all perfection, who knows the breadth of God's law, never dares to mock God, never dares so deceive himself, as to say, "I have no sin; I have cleansed my heart from iniquity; there remains no more pollution in me; I am pure every whit." No such presumptuous language as this can ever pass out of that heart which God has circumcised to fear his name. None can utter such language but that "generation who are pure in their own eyes, and yet who are not washed from their filthiness" (Prov. 30:12); or such as resemble that wretch, of whom we read, "such is the way of an adulterous woman; she eats, and wipes her mouth, and says, I have done no wickedness." (Prov. 30:20.)

Can we say, then, that "we have no sin" in thought? Is not every thought sinful, except such as come immediately from God? Must not everything which springs from my polluted heart be polluted? If there be a fountain that casts forth salt water, must not every drop of that fountain be briny and salt? If my heart is altogether a mass of sin, then every thought that proceeds from that heart must be deeply tainted with sin. Therefore, we cannot say, "I have no sin," in that sense, when every thought is full of sin.

Nor can we say, "we have no sin" in word. Who ever speaks without some sin attending the utterance of his lips? We may speak upon worldly things; is not sin mixed with it? We speak on divine things, does not sin attend it? We talk to sinners, sin is mingled with our speech; we talk to saints, sin is mingled with our words.

Can we say, we never sin in deed—we, that have made a profession, some ten, some twenty years—can we say, that we have never sinned in deed in action? The Lord may have kept us from falling into very great and grievous sins; but who dare say (I dare not), he has not sinned in action? Who has not walked upon the very brink of evil, if he has not actually stumbled and fallen into it? Who can lift up his head before God and before his people, and say, "Since the Lord quickened my soul I have never done any one thing I am ashamed of?" If we say, we have never so sinned, it is to be feared we come under John's condemnation, "we deceive ourselves."

Can we say, we have no pride? when we find it continually working. Can we say, we have no hypocrisy? when it is continually manifesting itself. Can we say, we have no presumption? when it is continually intruding its hateful head. Can we say, we have no rebellion? when the feeblest trial will stir up its proud waves. Can we say, we have no covetousness? when our heart is often going after the things of time and sense. Can we say, we have no peevishness? when a mere trifle will sometimes stir up our evil temper. Can we say, our eyes have no sin? when they are gathering iniquity with well-near every look. Can we say, our ears are free from sin? when nearly every thing that passes through them contaminates the conscience, and works upon our depraved nature. Can we say, our lips are free from sin? when they are continually uttering that which is not for the glory of God. Can we say, our hands are free from sin? Can we say, our feet are free from sin?

Can we say of ourselves, in any shape, in any form, that "we have no sin?"—when it gets up with us as we rise in the morning, and to our shame and sorrow is with us all the day—when it lies down with us, and often accompanies us in the night season? Can we say, with this daily, hourly, momently experience of sin continually defiling our conscience with its filthy streams, can we ever be among those who say, "we have no sin?" If we say so, we would have a lie in our right hand. If we said so, we should do violence to our own convictions, and speak against the testimony of God in our own conscience.

It is, then, a mercy to have a negative evidence, if you have not a positive one. It is a mercy, if you feel that you are sinners. Look at those who say they have no sin, who are perfectly free, who have cleansed their hearts, and reformed their lives, and have lopped this wide-spreading tree down to the very ground. What is the testimony of the Holy Spirit concerning them? They "deceive" themselves; they are deluded; they are blinded by the god of this world; they know not God; they know not themselves; they know not the evil of their hearts; they know not the workings of their fallen nature; they are altogether under the power of Satan as an angel of light, and there is no truth in them. They know nothing of the power of God, of the truth as it is in Jesus, of salvation by grace, of the Spirit's work upon the heart, or of the dealings of God upon the enlightened conscience.

Next Part A Confessing Sinner, and a Forgiving God 2

Back to J. C. Philpot Sermons