A Confessing Sinner, and a Forgiving God 2
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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." But, on the other hand, as this bright sword in the hand of the Spirit cuts down all fleshly perfectionists, and lays low in the dust as deceived creatures those who boast they have cleansed themselves from all impurity, how it smiles upon the poor mourning pilgrim here below! While it turns its face clothed with frowns, and menaces wrath and destruction against all self-deceivers who say they have no sin, what a smiling countenance does the same text turn to the poor mourners in Zion, who feel painfully they are sinning every moment, and are sighing and crying by reason of the plague of their heart! To them we turn; for to them especially does the second branch of our subject speak in words of sweet consolation, "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."
This is addressed to God's people; those who know the depth of the fall, who are mourning and sighing by reason of indwelling sin, and upon whose conscience it often presses as a burden too heavy to be borne. Now look at the difference between these two characters. We will suppose them seated this evening in the same pew. Here is one, who says, "I have no sin;" he knows nothing of the evil of the heart, of the workings of his own corruptions; he sees nothing of the purity of God's character; he knows nothing of the condemnation of the holy law; he thinks himself bound for heaven, and has no doubt of safely arriving there—a vessel fraught for its destined harbor, and never concerning faith to make shipwreck; congratulating himself he is not so bad as others; casting an eye of disdain upon those whom he sees laboring under sin, and the evils of their heart; and flattering himself that he stands high in God's favor because he is so like God. That man, whoever he be, is a deceived wretch; and so far as being on the road to heaven, he is traveling fast down to the chambers of death.
But, by his side, hanging his head, drooping in spirit, cast down in soul, is one whose heart God has touched; into whose conscience the blessed Spirit has brought light and life; one who has had the veil taken off his heart; one who knows himself by divine teaching to be a sinner before God. And what are his feelings? "O my sins, my sins! What a burden they are to my conscience! Shall I ever have them taken off? Shall I ever hear the sweet words proclaimed to my soul, 'Go free?' Will my soul ever be landed in glory? Will my sins be forever a mill-stone around my neck; or will they be cast into the depths of the sea, that when sought for they shall never be found?"
Look at these two characters. One all joy, the other all sorrow; one all presumption, the other all unbelief; one all confidence, the other all doubting; one all risings, the other all sinkings; the one growing day by day higher and higher, until at last, like Job's hypocrite, his head reaches the clouds, and the other sinking, sinking, sinking in his feelings, growing day by day viler and viler, guiltier and guiltier, worse and worse. Which is the sinner? which is the saint? Which is the heir of heaven? which is the heir of hell? Which is the child of God? which is the child of the Wicked One? Which is the tare? which is the wheat? Which is the sheep? which is the goat? I leave it to conscience to decide. I know well on which side of the line that poor bowed down sinner stands; that he is on the right side of the line of mercy, and will one day stand at the right hand of the good and great Shepherd, when he shall separate the sheep from the goats.
But for his comfort the Lord speaks by his Apostle John in these words, "If we confess our sins he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." But is it so very easy to put this in practice? Very easy in theory, very easy by the lips; but with the heart, O, how difficult, O, how impossible, except God himself is pleased specially to work with divine power in the soul!
A. There are several things that keep a man, though he feels sin, from confessing it to God.
1. One is, hardness of heart. The Lord's family have often to feel very painfully hardness of heart—the law cannot soften it, guilt cannot melt it, the very pangs of hell in a man's conscience cannot dissolve or break it down. They only harden it. His conscience may bleed with guilt, and his heart be hard as adamant; and therefore this hardness, (and O what a wretched feeling it is for a child of God to be so hard Godwards, so impenitent, so unfeeling, so unable to melt down at the feet of his dread Majesty) this hardness will seal and shut the mouth against confession.
2. Another thing that keeps the mouth from uttering the language of confession is despondency. Wherever despondency lays hold of a child of God, he cannot fully nor freely confess—he may feel miserable through sin; he may have the pangs of hell in his soul; but there is no free discharge; there is no flowing forth; his heart is shut up and closed by this stone on the well's mouth; and this stops confession.
3. Unbelief—that God does not or will not hear his cries. Doubts and fears of being rejected, and all the sad misgivings, fears, and terrors of an awakened conscience—these are often a great bar against confession of sin; for unbelief stops the mouth, as well as the utterance of the feelings of the soul.
B. But yet the Lord does bring his people to confess. Is it not his own promise? "They shall come with weeping, and with supplications will I lead them." (Jer. 31:9.) So that the Lord (and the Lord alone) can make the soul really confess its sins before him. And when is that?
1. Why, sometimes the Lord presses this confession out of the sinner's lips by the very weight of guilt that he puts upon him. He feels so guilty, so full of shame and sin, that he must confess; he can bear the burden no longer. It is so in nature. How many felons, at the gallows foot, have been compelled by the testimony of conscience to confess their crimes? How many a hidden murderer has been obliged by the weight of his sin to come forward and deliver himself into the hands of justice? Shall natural conscience force confession; and shall spiritual conscience not force it forth? So that when guilt lies very heavy upon a man's conscience, confession flows, because confession is forced out of it.
2. But still, another thing is needed, and that is, that confession should be drawn out of him, as well as driven. Is not this true in nature? If you have a child, and believe that child has done something wrong, you can sometimes draw confession out of him when you cannot drive. Hard speeches, taking down the rod, and threatening him with punishment, will only shut his mouth; but take him on your knee, and you will then find that you can draw out of his bosom that confession which the fear of the rod only kept closer in his own breast. Is it not so in grace? Does not the Lord draw sometimes confession of sin out of our bosom? Does not the Lord sometimes by the sweet and secret operations of his grace upon the soul draw us to his footstool? Does he not show us the mercy-seat? and does he not draw forth, by the sweet enkindlings of light and life, the confession of those sins by which our conscience has been burdened and guilty?
3. But still, there is something more needed to bring it fully out, to lift it out of the very depths of the heart. Driving may bring out some, drawing may bring out more; but still there is some remaining, like water at the bottom of a well, which neither driving nor drawing will completely bring forth. Yet there is one thing that can do it, that goes down to the very depth of the well, that sinks into the very feelings of a man's innermost conscience; that is, some discovery of a bleeding, suffering, agonizing Redeemer. And when there is some sight to the eye of faith of a bleeding, agonizing, suffering Jesus, then confession comes out of the very bottom of a man's heart. There is not a single secret that is kept back; there is no reserve made; the heart is emptied down to the very bottom.
But, "if we confess our sins;" that is, if we are enabled under these feelings to tell the Lord that we have transgressed, that we have backslidden, that our idolatrous heart, that our adulterous eye, that our covetous spirit, that our wicked nature has broken forth on the right hand and on the left; if we are enabled thus to "confess our sins," God has revealed for our comfort this blessed promise.
But some may ask this question, "What! am I to confess every sin I have committed?" How can you? How many have you committed? How many millions of moments have you lived?—so many millions of sins you have committed. How many times have you drawn breath into your lungs? How many times has your pulse beat since you came into this mortal state?—so many times has sin been committed by you. And therefore how can we confess all our sins? We might as well think, when we walk at midnight, and look up to the bright sky, of counting every star; we might as well dream, when strolling by the sea-shore, of counting every sand, or numbering every pebble, as think of telling the Lord every sin we have committed.
But those that lie upon the soul, those that are manifested in the light and life of God's teaching, those which are deeply felt, and which honest conscience bears witness to; those which the Spirit discovers—these we are to confess, these we shall confess, and these we must confess, as God gives us the power. O! however painful, may the Lord ever give you and me, who desire to fear his name, power to confess our sins to him. I am sure we must, if the conscience is made tender. We cannot go to him with lip service; we may sometimes bend our knee before him, and attempt to confess. But it is hard work; mere labor with the lip that tends to poverty. But there will be times and seasons when the Lord will so lay the guilt of our numerous transgressions upon our conscience, that we must bewail, cry, groan, and tell him with shame and confusion of face that we are the vilest of transgressors, and of sinners the chief.
Whatever be your confidence of going to heaven, whatever your strong assurance, whatever your knowledge of the doctrines of grace, whatever be the opinions you have formed of yourselves, or the opinion that others have formed of you, I would not pick up your religion if it lay before me in the street, if it know nothing of honest confession of sin. I would as soon think of taking up the dung that lies in the road, or some cast-off shoe, such as we see lying in the canal; I should as soon think of picking up some dirty rag that lies in the street, and putting it into my bosom, as take up a religion that knows nothing of confession before God or honesty before man.
C. But what a gracious promise the Lord gives to those who confess! "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins."
1. "He is FAITHFUL." Why would John select this attribute? Why would not John say, "He is merciful"—"He is gracious"—"He is kind?" Why would John lay this stress upon God's faithfulness? I will tell you—because he desires to lay it upon a very broad foundation. If I wish to erect a very noble, commanding and lofty superstructure, I must have a foundation, a basis, equally broad equally strong, for that building to stand upon. Now God's faithfulness is, if I may use the expression, that broad attribute in the divine majesty on which everything rests. As the Apostle says, "Let God be true, and every man a liar." Faithfulness—in other words, truth—is the very character of God. He might not be merciful, but he must be faithful. The mercy of God was not known until man fell. Ages had rolled away before the mercy of God was known; but God's faithfulness was ever known, and must be known, to the creatures of his hand. It is the very foundation of the Godhead. If he could cease to be faithful, he would cease to be God.
And, therefore, when the Apostle would lay a very broad foundation for the poor sinner to stand upon, he does not build it upon God's mercy, though so great; nor upon God'sgrace, though superabounding; nor upon God's love though everlasting; but he places it upon a greater, wider, stronger, broader foundation than these; and that is, God's eternal faithfulness—the veracity, the truthfulness, the very character of Jehovah, as he who cannot lie.
But in what way, and in what sense is God's attribute of faithfulness manifested? In this—God has promised to pardon repentant sinners; God has promised to forgive those who come to him, confessing their transgressions against him. Now it would impugn the divine veracity, it would cast a shade over God's holy character, if there were any repentant sinner whom God rejected; if there were any broken heart which God did not heal; if there were any spiritual confession that did not enter into the ears of the Lord almighty. And therefore, John builds up the soul, not on God's mercy (though all pardon flows from God's mercy), but on God's faithfulness, because what he has said, he will fulfill to the very letter.
2. But this is not the only attribute of God's character that John brings forward. He says, "He is faithful and JUST." O what a word is that! There is scarcely to my mind such a word in the Bible as that; so great, so glorious, so comforting—"He is faithful and just." "Just?" say you, "Why I know that God's mercy and God's grace can pardon sinners; but how can God be just, and pardon transgressors? Does not God's justice demand the punishment of sin? Does not God's justice blaze forth in eternal lightnings against the soul that transgresses his holy law? How, then, can it be true, that God can be just, and yet forgive a confessing sinner? But it is true—divinely true—blessedly, eternally true. And in it is locked up that grand mystery of redemption by the blood and obedience of God's co-equal Son. It is locked up in this one word—"just."
But how? it may be asked. In this way. The Lord of life and glory became a security and substitute for those whom his Father gave to him. He entered into their place and stead. He endured the punishment that was due to them. For them he fulfilled the whole law by his doings, and by his sufferings. For them he bled, and for them he died. For them he rose again, and for them ascended up to the right hand of the Father. And now justice demands the sinner's pardon, and puts in its righteous plea. And see the difference. Mercy begs, justice demands—mercy says, "I ask it as a blessing;" mercy, as a part of God's character, looks down with pity and compassion on the mourning criminal—but justice says, "It is his due; it is his right; it belongs to him; it is his because the Redeemer has discharged his debt, because the Surety has stood in his place, because the Savior has obeyed that law for him which he could not obey in his own person." So that when we can receive this blessed and glorious truth—that to those who confess their sins, "God is faithful," and not merely "faithful," but also "just to forgive them their sins,"—how it draws out of the bosom of Jehovah a full, free, and irrevocable pardon of all transgressions, and especially of those transgressions that the sinner confesses at his footstool!
Has the Lord made sin your burden? Has he ever made you feel guilty before him? Has he ever pressed down your conscience with a sight and sense of your iniquities, your sins, your backslidings? And does the Lord draw, from time to time, honest, sincere, unreserved confession of those sins out of your lips? What does the Holy Spirit say to you? What has the blessed Spirit recorded for your instruction, and for your consolation? "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins." Not merely on a footing of mercy; still less because you confess them. It is not your confessing them, but it is thus—your confessing them is a mark of divine life; your confessing them springs from the work of grace upon your heart. If, then, you possess divine life, if you have grace in your soul, you are a child of God; and if a child of God, Jesus obeyed for you—Jesus suffered for you—Jesus died for you—Jesus has put away your sin. And, therefore, you being a child of God, and Jesus having done all these things for you, God is now "faithful" to his promise that he will receive a confessing sinner; and "just" to his own immutable and veracious character. And thus, from justice as well as mercy, from faithfulness as well as compassion, he can, he will, and he does pardon, forgive, and sweetly blot out every iniquity and every transgression of a confessing penitent.
D. "And cleanse us from all unrighteousness." He cleanses our conscience from the guilt of sin, cleanses our heart from the filth of sin, and cleanses our soul from the powerof sin; for these three comprehend the cleansing operations of the Spirit upon the heart. We mourn under the guilt of sin; we sigh and groan under the power of sin. Now if the Lord can cleanse by his blood from the guilt of sin; can wash away, by the application of that holy fountain, the filth of sin; and by the power of his grace can deliver and keep from the power of sin; what more do we need? If the guilt, the filth, and the power of sin, is this three-headed monster, this three-fold malady, this thrice-twined cord that holds a poor sinner, then there is blood to purge away its guilt, a fountain to wash away its filth, and grace to deliver from its power. What more do you want? You have all that God can give, all that a living Mediator can freely and graciously bestow.
Look, then, what a frowning aspect upon some, what a smiling aspect upon others, this text in God's holy word casts. What is your state? What is your condition? What are the workings of your heart? Unhumbled, unexercised, unplagued, unsorrowing, unconfessing? O what a frowning aspect do these words of God present to you! The cherubim, with their flaming swords, guarding Paradise, were not more fearful to the terrified sons of Adam, than such a text displaying its awful blazing lightnings, against the self-righteous pharisee, against the Arminian perfectionist, against all, whoever they be, in a profession, or without a profession—in the church, or outside of the church—against all who have never, by divine teaching, felt the ruins of the fall, and have never had their conscience enlightened and enlivened to see and feel sin, and have never known themselves lost, ruined and undone.
On the other hand, what a smiling countenance, what open arms, what a tender bosom, what a sympathizing heart, does the text open to God's own mourning sighing, heart-broken, and penitent family! What is your greatest grief? That your worldly circumstances do not flourish? That you cannot prosper in the world as you would? That your body is not healthy and strong? Trifles; trifles! Mere scars! Mere flesh wounds, superficial sores! not a deep-rooted malady; not that which penetrates into the very core of a man's being. Sin; the plague of the heart, the corruption of our fallen nature, the evil that dwells in us, the pride, the hypocrisy, the presumption, the unbelief, the infidelity, the rebellion, the blasphemy, the carnality, the desperate wickedness of our depraved heart—is not this the greatest trial that you daily feel?
Take your other burdens—all of them—tie them together—make a bundle of them. Put this bundle on the scale—and put on the other side, the plague of your heart, the evil of your nature, the hidings of God's face, the workings that pass, day by day, in your chambers of imagery. Does not the one scale, the temporal scale, kick the beam? and does not the other, the spiritual scale, sink as low as the balance can fall? It does; it does, I am sure it does when the heart is made honest, and when the conscience is made tender and alive in God's fear.
But yet, how the text smiles upon such; or rather, how the Lord, the God of all grace, who revealed it (blessings be upon his name!) how he smiles! how he wins! how he embraces in the arms of his mercy and love those who feel the evil of sin, who sorrow, grieve, and groan because of their transgressions; and who, in sadness of heart and sincerity of mouth, are enabled, from time to time, to confess their transgressions at the footstool of mercy and grace! there is free pardon for all such; complete forgiveness; the Lord blots out all their sins; they shall no more be brought against them; and they will one day bless God, that ever they felt their guilt, were ever enabled to confess them, and were ever led to believe that God had freely pardoned and received them, not for anything in themselves, but for his name's sake, whom they desire eternally to love, admire, and adore.
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