A Fourfold Salvation. 3

The sincere Christian is often made to seriously doubt if he has been delivered from the love of sin. Such questions as these painfully agitate his mind—Why do I so readily yield to temptation? Why do some of the vanities and pleasures of the world still possess so much attraction for me? Why do I chafe so much against any restraints being placed upon my lusts? Why do I find the work of mortification so difficult and distasteful? Could such things as these be—if I were a new creature in Christ? Could such horrible experiences as these happen—if God had saved me from taking pleasure in sin?

Well do we know that we are here giving expression to the very doubts which exercise the minds of many of our readers, and those who are strangers thereto are to be pitied. But what shall we say in reply? How is this distressing problem to be resolved? How may one be assured that he has been saved from the love of sin?

Let us point out first, that the presence of that within us which still lusts after and takes delight in some evil things—is not incompatible with our having been saved from the love of sin, paradoxical as that may sound. It is part of the mystery of the Gospel that those who are saved are yetsinners in themselves. The point we are here dealing with is similar to and parallel with faith. The Divine principle of faith in the heart, does not cast out unbelief. Faith and doubts exist side by side within a quickened soul, which is evident from those words, "Lord, I believe—help my unbelief" (Mark 9:24). In like manner the Christian may exclaim and pray, "Lord, I long after holiness—help my lustings after sin." And why is this? Because of the existence of two separate natures, the one at complete variance with the other within the Christian.

How, then, is the presence of faith to be ascertained? Not by the ceasing of unbelief—but by discovering its own fruits and works. Fruit may grow amid thorns—as flowers among weeds—yet it is fruit, nevertheless. Faith exists amid many doubts and fears.

Notwithstanding opposing forces from within as well as from without us, faith still reaches out after God. Notwithstanding innumerable discouragements and defeats, faith continues to fight. Not withstanding many refusals from God, it yet clings to Him, and says, "Unless You bless me—I will not let You go." Faith may be fearfully weak and fitful, often eclipsed by the clouds of unbelief, nevertheless the Devil himself cannot persuade its possessor to repudiate God's Word, despise His Son, or abandon all hope. The presence of faith, then, may be ascertained in that it causes its possessor to come before God as an empty-handed beggar, beseeching Him for mercy and blessing.

Now just as the presence of faith may be known amid all the workings of unbelief, so our salvation from the love of sin may be ascertained notwithstanding all the lustings of the flesh after that which is evil. But in what way? How is this initial aspect of salvation to be identified? We have already anticipated this question in an earlier paragraph, wherein we stated that God saved us from delighting in sin—by imparting a nature which hates evil and loves holiness, which takes place at the new birth. Consequently, the real question to be settled is how may the Christian positively determine whether that new and holy nature has been imparted to him? The answer is by observing its activities, particularly the opposition it makes (under the energizing of the Holy Spirit) unto indwelling sin. Not only does the flesh (the principle of sin) lust against the spirit—but the spirit (the principle of holiness) lusts and wars against the flesh.

First, our salvation from the pleasure or love of sin, may be recognized by sin's becoming a BURDEN to us. This is truly a spiritual experience. Many souls are loaded with worldly anxieties—who know nothing of what it means to be bowed down with a sense of guilt. But when God takes us in hand, the iniquities and transgressions of our past life are made to lie as an intolerable load upon the conscience. When we are given a sight of ourselves as we appear before the eyes of the thrice holy God—we will exclaim with the Psalmist, "For troubles without number surround me; my sins have overtaken me, and I cannot see. They are more than the hairs of my head, and my heart fails within me!" (40:12). So far from sin being pleasant, it is now felt as a cruel tormentor, a crushing weight, an unendurable load. The soul is "heavy laden" (Matt. 11:28) and bowed down. A sense of guilt oppresses, and the conscience cannot bear the weight upon it. Nor is this experience restricted to our first conviction—it continues with more or less acuteness throughout the Christian's life.

Second, our salvation from the pleasure of sin, may be recognized by sin's becoming BITTER to us. True, there are millions of the unregenerate who are filled with remorse over the harvest reaped from their sowing of wild oats. Yet that is not hatred of sin—but dislike of its consequences—ruined health, squandered opportunities, financial straitness, or social disgrace. No, what we have reference to, is that anguish of heart which ever marks the one whom the Spirit takes in hand. When the veil of delusion is removed, and we see sin in the light of God's countenance; when we are given a discovery of the depravity of our very nature—then we perceive that we are sunk in carnality and death. When sin is opened to us in all its secret workings—we are made to feel the vileness of our hypocrisy, self-righteousness, unbelief, impatience, and the utter filthiness of our hearts. And when the penitent soul views the sufferings of Christ, he can say with Job, "God makes my heart soft" (23:16).

Ah, my reader, it is this experience which prepares the heart to go out after Christ—those who are whole need not a physician—but those who are quickened and convicted by the Spirit are anxious to be relieved by the great Physician. "The Lord kills—and makes alive; He brings down to the grave—and brings up. The Lord makes poor—and makes rich; He brings low—and lifts up" (1 Sam. 2:6, 7). It is in this way that God slays our self-righteousness, makes us poor, and brings us low—by making sin to be an intolerable burden, and as bitter as wormwood to us.

There can be no saving faith until the soul is filled with evangelical repentance. Repentance is a godly sorrow for sin, a holy detestation of sin, and a sincere purpose to forsake it. The Gospel calls upon men to repent of their sins, forsake their idols, and mortify their lusts, and thus it is utterly impossible for the Gospel to be a message of glad tidings to those who are in love with sin and madly determined to perish rather than part with their idols.

Nor is this experience of sin's becoming bitter to us, limited unto our first awakening; it continues, in varying degrees, to the end of our earthly pilgrimage. The Christian suffers under temptations, is pained by Satan's fiery assaults, and bleeds from the wounds inflicted by the evils he commits. It grieves him deeply—that he makes such a wretched return unto God for His goodness, that he requites Christ so evilly for His dying love, that he responds so fitfully to the promptings of the Spirit. The wanderings of his mind when he desires to meditate upon the Word, the dullness of his heart when he seeks to pray, the worldly thoughts which invade his mind when reading Scripture, the coldness of his affections toward the Redeemer-cause him to groan daily; all of which goes to evidence that sin has been made bitter to him. He no longer welcomes those intruding thoughts which take his mind off God—rather does he sorrow over them. But "Blessed are those who mourn—for they shall be comforted" (Matt. 5:4).

Third, our salvation from the pleasure of sin may be recognized by the felt BONDAGE which sin produces. As it is not until a Divine faith is planted in the heart—that we become aware of our native and inveterate unbelief; so it is not until God saves us from the love of sin—that we are conscious of the fetters it has placed around us. Then it is, that we discover we are "without strength," unable to do anything pleasing to God, incapable of running the race set before us.

A Divinely-drawn picture of the saved soul's felt bondage is to be found in Romans 7, "I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. For in my inner being I delight in God's law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members" (vv. 18, 19, 22, 23). And what is the sequel? This, the agonizing cry, "Oh, what a miserable person I am! Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin!" If that be the sincere lamentation of your heart, then God has saved you from the pleasure of sin.

Let it be pointed out, though, that salvation from the love of sin is felt and evidenced in varying degrees by different Christians—and at different periods in the life of the same Christian, according to the measure of grace which God bestows, and according as that grace is active and operative. Some seem to have a more intense hatred of sin in all its forms than do others—yet the principle of hating sin is found in all real Christians. Some Christians rarely, if ever commit any deliberate and premeditated sins—more often they are tripped up, suddenly tempted (to be angry or to tell a lie) and are overcome. But with others the case is quite otherwise—they, fearful to say—actually plan evil acts. If anyone indignantly denies that such a thing is possible in a saint, and insists that such a character is a stranger to saving grace, we would remind him of David—was not the murder of Uriah definitely planned? This second class of Christians find it doubly hard to believe they have been saved from the love of sin.

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