AN ESCAPE FROM A FALSE REFUGE.
When surveying my congregation one Sabbath evening, I noticed an interesting stranger in the front gallery, whose manner indicated that he had never been in the chapel before. I had selected for my text Isa. lvii. 18: "I have seen his ways, and will heal him; I will lead him also, and restore comforts unto him, and to his mourners." As he sat just opposite the pulpit my eye caught his, when delivering the following introductory remarks:—
"No one can read the Bible with serious attention, without feeling that he is brought into contact with God. While intently fixed on the subject which engages his attention, he feels isolated from others—existing apart from others, yet existing in immediate connection with God and the eternal world. The same novel effect is sometimes produced, and often to a greater degree, when a congregation is attentively listening to the ministrations of the pulpit. People are drawn together into a place of worship: the reading, the singing, and the prayer are gone through; and then the preaching commences. The preacher is known, but he is soon lost sight of; his subject absorbs attention, excites emotion; impression succeeds impression; and though, in some instances, there may be a momentary degree of astonishment awakened as to the source from whence the preacher has obtained his knowledge of individual character, yet that astonishment soon subsides, and nothing is left to engross the attention of the hearer, but an overwhelming sense of his own guilt, misery, and danger, which is now discovered, and felt, FOR THE FIRST TIME. Yes, many a person has entered this chapel to scorn, who has left it to breathe the prayer of the publican—'God be merciful to me a sinner.' Yes, many a person has taken his seat with others, and by being blended with the mass of the congregation, has seemed to lose the individuality of his existence; but the high and lofty One, that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy, speaks—and though his voice is not heard, it is felt—'I have seen his ways.' Yes, O sinner, he has seen your ways in the gone-by times of your impenitence, when you were living without him, and without hope in the world. Yes, he has seen your ways, when you either neglected the ordinances of religion, or observed them with careless indifference, as though they bore no relation to the Holy One, who inhabiteth eternity. Yes, he has seen the ways you have adopted to obliterate your religious impressions; to pacify your consciences; and to reconcile your habits of gaiety and folly, with a sense of your obligations to him. But he has never yet seen you walking in the narrow way that leadeth to eternal life. He has never seen you at his footstool deploring the error of your ways, and praying for mercy. Shall he abandon you to your irreligious course, and leave you to perish? or shall he come to heal you, to guide you, and to comfort you?"
His attention was arrested; he looked and listened as though he had never previously seen a minister in a pulpit, or heard a sermon; and on his countenance there was impressed an air of expressive solemnity, indicating profound thought.
I saw him again on the next Sabbath evening, then I missed him for several Sabbaths; he again re-appeared, became more frequent in his attendance, and at length I saw him walking up the area of the chapel accompanied by a lady, whom I presumed to be his wife. On this occasion he was invited into a pew belonging to one of my elders; and at the close of the service they left the chapel together. On inquiry I found that this elder knew him; and from him I obtained the outlines of his history, which he prefaced by saying, "I was not at the chapel on the first night of his attendance, and was rather surprised when he told me of it, because I rather apprehend he is a sceptic, though he does not avow it. However, though he gave me no reason to expect that he should repeat his visit, he made one remark which I was gratified to hear, as it was a proof that he had listened to the discourse, and was rather pleased than otherwise. 'The sermon,' he said, 'was simple and plain, yet somewhat original. I have heard more eloquent, and more argumentative discourses, both in my own country, and in England, but I never heard one which took such a firm hold of my attention, or one which brought after it such a train of novel thought; indeed, I cannot escape from a recollection of it.'"
Mr. Christopher Lobeck, the gentleman in question, was born in Berlin, in 1794. His parents were Protestants, with whom he lived till he had finished his literary education; and then he travelled for two years, visiting Spain, France, and Switzerland, and the principal manufacturing districts and marts of commerce of his own country, to qualify himself to engage in mercantile pursuits. Soon after the termination of the war in 1815, he was introduced to an English merchant, with whom he made an arrangement to serve his establishment in the capacity of a corresponding clerk; and this led to his settlement in London. While in this situation, which he held for seven years, he married the daughter of a citizen of worth and distinction; and by his advice, and with the concurrence of the house in which he had been engaged, he accepted an eligible offer of partnership in a firm of high respectability in ——, to which place he removed in 1822. His private residence was situated about a mile and a half from the centre of the town, a neat snug cottage, with the usual appurtenances, &c., &c. "He is," the elder added, "both intelligent and communicative, and has acquired a large amount of scientific and general information; and notwithstanding his doubts on the great question of the Christian faith, he generally attends church on Sabbath morning with his wife and children. Mrs. Lobeck is a contrast to her husband on religious matters; he looks with equal indifference on all the external forms of Christianity—she is one of the most impassioned admirers of Episcopacy and its clergy I ever knew. She is, in fact, what may be termed a devotee—excited, as by an electrical shock, if she hear any remark derogatory to the absolute perfection of her church and its priestly orders." He concluded by saying, "I think you should now go and see them; as they have both been to hear you preach, I think it likely they will be expecting it as an act of courtesy. It is possible that this may be the opening of a new epoch in their moral history, which may lead to some grand spiritual result."
I made a call, and was gratified by my reception. Mr. Lobeck was very cordial, and Mrs. Lobeck very polite; he was free and easy in chit-chat, but she was rather reserved; yet both seemed to be pleased by my visit. After looking through his museum, which contained a choice though not very extensive collection of birds, reptiles, and fossils, a few coins of different ages and countries, and a good assortment of autographs, I then strolled round his garden and shrubbery, and took my leave of them—both equally pressing for a more lengthened visit. Their attendance at the chapel now became more regular on a Sabbath evening, and occasionally on a Sabbath morning; and after the lapse of a few weeks, I met a select tea-party at their house, and though nearly all were strangers to me, and most of them high church, yet I spent a very pleasant evening. No controversial subject was introduced for debate or discussion; conversation was desultory, without being frivolous, and was sustained without being prosy, or degenerating into dry common-place. Having intimated to Mr. Lobeck that it was my usual habit to conduct family prayer where I spent an evening, the Bible was presented to me; I read Psalm ciii., offering a few expository remarks, and then we knelt together at the throne of grace.
At a subsequent interview, when Mr. Lobeck called on me, he said, "We have decided on attending your chapel if we can be accommodated with a pew." On expressing some degree of surprise that Mrs. Lobeck should be willing to leave her church, with all its long-cherished predilections and associations, he replied—
"She still gives it the preference, but a paramount sense of duty now compels her to take this step. She was pleased with the extreme simplicity of your mode of worship the first time she came; and has on several occasions expressed her approbation of the momentous truths you have inculcated on the attention of your audience; but your discourse on Sabbath evening, from Acts xvi. 14, brought her long-hesitating mind to this decision. As we were returning home, after alluding to the hymn, and to the singing, which she very much enjoys, she remarked she now felt no surprise that I should prefer the preaching at the chapel to the preaching at the church; because, in her opinion, it is more interesting and instructive. 'It is,' she added, 'quite a relief to hear no more prosing about the regular succession question, or about the font and its mysteries. This clergyman makes one think of one's self, of God, of another world, and our Saviour Jesus Christ.'"
As they were now become my stated hearers, a close intimacy soon sprang up between us; and on one occasion, when alluding to the state of religion on the Continent, he said, with emphatic earnestness, "My country, Sir, is the land of spiritual barrenness; death reigns there. Infidelity is awfully dominant, and fatally powerful."
"But I have heard it now assumes an aspect somewhat different from the infidelity introduced by Voltaire, and which I believe was aided in its progress by the more fascinating genius of Rousseau."
"Yes, Sir, it is now the infidelity of Goethe, a man of extraordinary mental power—a most subtle and beguiling writer. Voltaire was an intellectual sceptic, who denounced Christianity as an imposition on human credulity, and he advocated its suppression and extermination. Rousseau was a sentimental sceptic, who contemplated Christianity with the same class of emotions as he surveyed the beauties and the deformities of nature; regarding it as a strange compound of moral grandeur and of meanness, which, in his estimation, might remain amongst a people without doing any social injury, and might be got rid of without their sustaining any irreparable loss. Goethe is a rational sceptic, or what is called in Germany a rationalist. His disposition is not mocking like that of Voltaire and others, nor does he ever indulge in burlesque or ridicule, when speaking of the popular faith. He uniformly evinces a marked respect for the ordinary doctrines and ethics of Christianity, while the drift of his writings is to prove that the real religion of a man's heart, and the real end of his existence, lie in the refined cultivation of his mind and affections, and in subjecting all irregular impulses and passions to a course of due restraint."
"The infidelity of these sceptical writers who have done so much mischief on the Continent, and in England too, is substantially the same in its origin, in its essence, and in its tendencies, though there is a slight variation in its phases, its developments, and in its designs."
"Infidelity, Sir, under any phase, or in any form of development, is a destroying power; and its progress may be traced, like that of an epidemic, by the scenes of desolation which it leaves in its track. There would be some difficulty in adjusting the comparative injury which these distinguished sceptics have entailed on the moral and religious world; but it is very evident to any one who studies their writings, that they all tend to the same issue. The primary lessons which they all teach are these—that man needs no Divine instructor, which supersedes the necessity of revelation; that his own reason is sufficient to enable him to discover the safe road to true happiness and moral greatness, which supersedes the necessity of priestly instruction and training; and that he need do nothing more for his present well-being, and his future destiny, if there be a futurity, than cultivate his own tastes and social virtues."
"But I suppose Goethe has done more moral injury amongst the theologians of Germany than any other sceptical writer."
"I have no doubt of it; and also amongst all classes of literary men. I was once one of his devoted disciples; he ruled my mind with despotic sway. I revered him as an oracle. He stood, in my estimation, both in intellectual greatness and in the accuracy of his moral discoveries, far above any of the writers of the Old or New Testaments. He gave me a distaste for the Bible, and a loathing against its sublime and momentous doctrines; and I believe that his writings have tainted to a fearful extent the theology of the pulpits of Germany. There are a few able and eloquent men, who preach Christ and him crucified, in close imitation of Paul; but only a comparatively small number. Human reason is the popular idol amongst the majority; they keep the cross of Christ in the background; the atonement is repudiated by them. They maintain from the press and from the pulpit, and with as much strenuous earnestness as any of the infidel fraternity, that man has within himself a self-sufficient power to secure his present and his future happiness, without being at all dependent on the grace of God or the love of Christ."
"A sad change since the palmy days of Luther, and the other great Reformers."
"A most melancholy one; I should not like to return to live amidst such signs of decay and scenes of moral desolation—it is as Eden in ruins."
"Your removal, Sir, to England has proved a very important event in your history."
"It has indeed; a local change often leads to many other changes. If I had tarried in Berlin, I had not known my wife or had my three dear children; and most likely I should still have remained a disciple of Goethe, rather than become a disciple of Jesus Christ."
"Will you permit me to ask you one question, What circumstance induced you to come to the chapel the first time you came?"
"Your question, Sir, revives in my recollection a proposition which you illustrated by a series of facts, when delivering a discourse on John iv. 6, 7, and which, if my memory does not fail me, you stated in the following words:—'When a crisis approaches in the history of a nation, or even of a private individual, we may sometimes observe prognostic signs of its coming; and in taking a review after its occurrence, we may sometimes see a marked conjunction of determining events naturally leading to it.' The fact is, on the Sunday of my first visit to your chapel, we had arranged with a few friends to take a drive into the country; but just as we were in readiness to start, a tremendous thunderstorm compelled us to give up our jaunt. After it had cleared off, as it was too late for our country excursion, I took a walk into the town to see an old friend; but the rain again came down in torrents, just as I was passing your chapel; I ran into it for shelter, not for worship. I had no more thought of being converted to the faith of Christ when I entered your chapel, than the woman of Samaria expected to see the Messias when she left home to get some water from Jacob's well."
"The Psalmist, when calling on all the powers of the celestial and terrestrial creation to praise the Lord (Psal. cxlviii.), speaks of fire and hail, of snow and vapour, and stormy wind as fulfilling the Divine purpose; they come and go at his command, doing the work he assigns to them."
"So I now believe. I recollect, when watching the coming up of the dark thunderstorm, feeling vexed that it should come just then, when we were all in such high glee, and in complete readiness to be off. I did not then know that on that storm my future destiny was depending. Had it not come when it did come, we should have been desecrating the Sabbath by recreative indulgence; and had it not been followed by the second storm, I should have been with my friend enjoying the convivialities of hospitality and mirth. In either case, when laying my head on my pillow, on that memorable night, my bosom would have heaved to other emotions than those which your discourse had stirred up within it. There and then I felt what I never expected to feel; and if the strange commotion had been predicted by an angel of God, I should have ridiculed it as a mere phantom. Indeed, my philosophy, which led me to believe that such a moral change as I have experienced was unnecessary, compelled me also to believe that it was impossible."
"I recollect the text from which I preached on the occasion to which you refer, but I do not recollect employing any arguments to expose the fallacy and delusions of scepticism, or any in confirmation of the Divine origin of the Christian faith."
"Argument, Sir, in favour of Christianity I could have withstood; but I could not withstand the great moral power by which I felt awe-struck and subdued."
"Do you think you were renewed in the spirit of your mind during the first service you attended at the chapel?"
"I know I felt very differently when I came out of the chapel that evening, from what I felt on entering; but whether I then actually passed from a state of spiritual death to newness of life, is a question I cannot decide. But now I can say what Paul said—By the grace of God I am what I am."
"Do you ever doubt the reality of the spiritual change which you have undergone?"
"No, Sir, that's impossible. I know that I was once living in a state of spiritual death, or mental alienation from God, neither loving nor fearing him—living without him in the world; but it's the reverse of this now. I now revere him as my sovereign, whose laws are my delight; and I now love him as my reconciled Father through Jesus Christ. All through life, up to my first visit to your chapel, the invisible world flitted before my imagination, more as a fairy land than a real world of spiritual beings; and the immortality of man I considered more a thing of speculation than of positive certainty; but now I am compelled to believe, and by the force of evidence which sophistry cannot falsify, that it is the habitation of the high and lofty One whose name is Holy, and before whom I hope to be presented faultless with exceeding joy when the crisis comes."
"But, Sir, does your old philosophy never suggest to you the idea that these new discoveries and emotions, with their consequent anticipations, may be referable to the mysterious action of a disturbed imagination, rather than the direct action of a supernatural power—what scepticism designates the flights of fancy?"
"I must confess that such an idea has more than once obtruded itself on my mind; but I at once dismiss it as an intangible fiction; for when I turned my attention to study the Christianity of the Bible, which I did very closely as soon as I felt the new impulse from your first sermon, I perceived that it not only offers remission of sin to the penitent and contrite sinner, but that it is essentially a restorative scheme of grace, constructed for the very purpose of rescuing man from the moral ruin in which sin has involved him, and ultimately to re-produce that spiritual similitude to the Divine likeness in which man was created, and which would still have adorned humanity, if the first transgression had not been committed. Hence the discoveries and emotions I have made and felt, and the conflicts through which I am now passing, are the initiate of this grand design of the high and lofty One—the preparatory steps in the progress of recovery, which is to lead to such a glorious issue."
"Have you, Sir, any distinct recollection of the order of thought which followed—the unanticipated impressions and emotions which you felt while listening to the sermon?"
"I recollect saying to myself, when passing home—I have heard many sermons in my own country, and many in England, more elaborate, more argumentative, and more brilliant; and yet no one ever produced such a series of novel and strange convictions and impressions as this simple and plain appeal to which I have been listening. Myself, my moral condition and danger, now absorbed my attention: I felt, and for the first time in my history, that I had been living without God—living the life of a practical atheist—that I deserved his anger, and that he might justly leave me to perish."
"Did you entertain any idea that this new moral discovery would lead to an eventful issue; or did you suppose it would vanish away, and leave you to live as in former years?"
"Why, Sir, I felt that the discovery I had made was no mental illusion, but a palpable and awful reality; and though it excited emotions of alarm and terror which I could scarcely endure, yet I felt more inclined to cherish than repress them; and at times during the ensuing week, I did indulge a vague hope that God would have mercy on me and comfort me."
"Did you tell Mrs. Lobeck where you had been, and what you felt?"
"No, Sir. I deemed it inexpedient to do that; because I knew it would distress her to hear that I had been to a Dissenting chapel. But there were other considerations which imposed silence. I knew not what opinion to form of the issue of the mental process through which I was passing. I thought it might bring on some change in my moral character and history; and I also thought it might end in nothing. I therefore resolved, while in this state of perplexity and confusion, not to say anything to any one on the subject, till I actually knew the result."
"Did you remain long in this state of mental perplexity and distraction?"
"For several months, during which time I accompanied my family to our church every Sabbath morning, and very generally I was at your chapel in the evening. I perceived that the religion of the two places is the same in its broad outlines; yet I soon discovered a great difference, not only in its impressiveness, but even in the doctrines of its public ministrations."
"The Rector and his Curate, I believe, dwell principally on the efficacy of the sacraments, and the absolute necessity of a steady adherence to the church, as an implied condition of salvation."
"Yes, Sir: they virtually reject what many of our Protestant ministers in Germany openly repudiate—the inherent depravity of man, the atonement for sin made by Jesus Christ, and the necessity of the agency of the Divine Spirit to enlighten and renovate the soul of man. In fact, they adopt the leading principle of Goethe's philosophy, and place our hope of future happiness on our doings and attainments. Goethe and his disciples work the principle without the alliance of any auxiliary powers or influences; but the clergymen of our church identify it with ecclesiastic ceremonies and associations. In either case, it is man doing something for himself which makes him his own saviour."
"I often wonder how it is that intelligent persons, who admit the authority of the Bible, can make such egregious mistakes as they often do on the question which relates to the way of salvation, or the method of a sinner's reconciliation with God; when it is stated with so much explicitness and precision by the sacred writers, 'Believe and be saved.' 'For through him we both have access by one Spirit unto the Father' (Ephes. ii. 18)."
"The terms are very explicit and simple—believe and be saved: but judging from my own experience, I should say they are very difficult of apprehension, and for this reason, we cannot trace a connection between such an action of the mind and such a glorious result."
"Nor, Sir, are we required to do so: we are to rest our belief on Christ and his promise, and then expect the issue."
"The discourse, Sir, which you delivered some time since on John iii. 14, 15, set my mind at rest on this simple and important question. You sketched the scene in the camp of Israel—the people dying under the judicial infliction; and when representing one and another, on moving out of their tents, feeling an instantaneous cure when they looked on the elevated brazen serpent, the scales fell from my mental vision, and I saw clearly, through the medium of this illustrative fact, that it is by faith in the death of Jesus Christ that we are to be saved. I shall never forget the effect which this discovery excited within me. I felt joy and peace in believing. The cloud of obscurity which had hung so long over the sacred page, and over the spiritual parts of your ministrations, instantaneously vanished; and I saw THE truth in its clearness, because I again felt it in its power. I hastened home under an impulse of emotion which I know not how to describe; and as soon as I saw Mrs. Lobeck, I disclosed the long pent-up secrets of my heart. She listened to my communications with intense interest; and after offering me her congratulations on my escape from the snares and delusions of my sceptical philosophy, she then added, what both surprised and delighted me to hear—'I will very willingly go with you on a Sabbath evening, where you have received so much spiritual good, if you will continue to go with us to church on a Sabbath morning.' I at once consented to this proposal, and we continued for many months to alternate an attendance at the two churches, till at length she came to the decision which I have mentioned. We are now one in spirit, and I hope one in faith; but I regret to say that at times she feels a mental depression which I know not how to account for, nor can I remove it."
Mrs. Lobeck was a truly interesting person—as genteel in her manners, as she was amiable in her disposition; and as our intimacy increased, she gradually threw off her constitutional reserve, and became more free and communicative. She was naturally more buoyant in spirits than her husband, yet there was an expression of grief in her countenance which excited my sympathy, and I felt desirous of ascertaining the cause of it. She had been, from her youth up, a most rigid devotee of ecclesiastical formalism; no Puseyite could be more scrupulous in observing the times and seasons and ceremonies of his church. I knew, from many incidental allusions, that she had idolized her Prayer Book, which led her to neglect her Bible; and this made me suspect that she was still placing some undue dependence on ecclesiastic ceremonies. I had preached a sermon on the eunuch going on his way rejoicing (Acts viii. 39), to which she made a reference when I was spending an evening with her.
"To be candid, Sir, it is not with me as it was with the eunuch; for I am not quite so easy in my mind now, as I was before I left the church; sometimes I think I must return, though I should regret depriving myself of the benefit I derive from your ministry."
"You do not feel quite so much at ease in your mind now, as you did when attending to your long established religious customs?"
"I do not. Indeed, I feel at times quite unhappy."
"Were you quite happy when you were attending to your religious duties. Did you habitually feel that you were prepared for death; that is, were you assured that your sins were forgiven, and that you would go to heaven when you died?"
"No, Sir, I was never perfectly happy, because I was not quite assured that I should go to heaven, but I always thought that if I continued to the end in the religious course in which I had been trained, the Almighty would take me to himself. I recollect mentioning to our Rector the fears which I occasionally had on this subject, when he quoted a passage from the Bible which gave me much comfort, 'He that endureth to the end shall be saved.' I now feel that I am failing in this duty, which makes me unhappy."
"Did you, when practising your religious duties, think much about Jesus Christ, and much about coming to him by faith, to save you? Did you ever feel that you loved him?"
"I always thought he was our Saviour, but I have thought more about him lately than I used to think. Your preaching puts some new ideas into my mind about Jesus Christ, but they soon pass away. I cannot retain them, because I do not clearly understand them."
"If I do not mistake, you cherished a hope that the Almighty would save you, because you were regular and conscientious in the observance of your religious duties?"
"Yes, Sir, I did. Was I doing wrong by doing this?"
"You will see presently. In consequence of having left the church, you cannot now attend, with the uniformity of former times, to the same order of duties; and therefore you cannot now indulge the hope that the Almighty will save you. And this depresses your spirits and makes you feel unhappy."
"It does, and very painfully so. I think I have forfeited the blessing, because I am not enduring to the end."
"You say you always thought that Jesus Christ was our Saviour; but do you not perceive, that as long as you indulged the hope of being saved in consequence of your scrupulous and constant attention to your religious duties, you were expecting to be saved without being indebted to him for your salvation? If you had succeeded, you would have got into heaven without his help; how then could he be your Saviour?"
"Then, Sir, was I doing wrong by placing my hope of being saved on my religious life and practice?"
"You were living under the spell of a common, but fatal delusion."
"Indeed, Sir! Such an idea has struck me, more than once, when I have been listening to your discourses; but it has passed from me; I could not entertain it, it is too horrifying."
"If, my dear Madam, to live under the spell of a fatal delusion be horrifying, what must it be to die under one—to pass away from earth, expecting to go to heaven, and when disembodied and alone, to be left to sink into hell!"
"But, Sir, if a person be sincere and constant in his religious duties—if he endure in them to the end of life, do you think the Almighty will suffer him to die under such a delusive expectation as that? The thought of it is truly painful. It makes me shudder."
"Allow me to call your attention to the following passage, which is a quotation from the words of Jesus Christ, the faithful and true Witness—'Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven. Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works? And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity' (Matt. vii. 21-23)."
"How awful! Their doom is the reverse of what they expected. This passage is conclusive; delusion is possible, and it sometimes proves fatal. The question is, How can it be detected before the discovery comes too late for correction? I feel confused."
"Did you often pray to be kept from self-delusion, during the time you were engaged in your religious duties?"
"I always used my prayers twice a-day, morning and evening; and on some special days I used them more frequently. When travelling, or when we had visitors at our house, I sometimes neglected them, but then I always did double duty the next day, or as soon after as possible. But I don't recollect that I have any prayer which refers especially to self-delusion. Such an idea I never entertained. The idea is quite new to me."
"Then you merely read your prayers; you did not pray?"
"Why, Sir, is not that praying? I am quite sure that I was sincere when I was doing it, and I always felt a pleasure when I had done it."
"The apostle Paul, even when he was an enemy to Christ, and when persecuting the disciples of Christ, even to bonds, imprisonment, and death, was very devout and zealous in all his religious duties; as touching the righteousness of the law, that is, the duties of the ceremonial law, he says he was blameless. He said his prayers, or he read them; but it was not till after his conversion that Jesus Christ said of him, 'Behold he prayeth' (Acts ix. 11)."
"The subject of our conversation is somewhat alarming. It agitates me. It will increase the depression of my spirits. I shall feel quite unhappy. I see nothing before me now but real danger, I may say awful danger. What can I do now?"
"The prophet says, 'Then shall we know, if we follow on to know the Lord' (Hosea vi. 3). In nature there is progression, and so in grace. The light shines brighter and brighter from the faint dawn to the clear meridian. This is an emblem. You will find Scripture truth come out of its obscurity as you advance in your inquiries and researches; and therefore, my dear Madam, you should not yield to despondency, but rather give diligence to make your calling and election sure, and if you do this, you will ultimately rejoice in hope."
Several weeks elapsed before I visited her again. I had preached one Sabbath evening from Luke xv. 2, proving that Jesus Christ takes supreme delight in saving the chief of sinners. I noticed, when delivering the subjoined passage, the fixedness of her look, and the varying aspect of her countenance, indicating both astonishment and delight. "If he saved our men of refined taste and literary eminence—our great historians and poets—the noble aristocracy of our country—our active spirits who go about doing good—persons of artistic and professional skill—the heroes and heroines of valour and adventure—many would be more gratified than surprised: this, they would say, is as it ought to be; due respect is paid to mind, to moral worth, to rank—the dignity of order is preserved. Well, brethren, he will save any of the various orders to whom I have referred; but then they must come out of the fascinations and embellishments of their social position, and get into the position of sinners, as he did not come to call the intelligent, the renowned, and the righteous, but he came to call sinners to repentance; he seeks and saves those and those only who feel that they are lost, and in danger of perishing for ever. He receiveth sinners—the chief of sinners—sinners of vulgar habits and atrocious crimes—sinners who are shunned by the refined and virtuous, and scowled upon by our sentimental moralists and men of taste; and he saves them—they constitute a large portion of the population of the celestial world. He receiveth sinners; but on what terms and conditions? Believe and be saved; believe now, and be saved. You see, my brethren, that sinners are not sent to mend their ways, before Jesus Christ will save them; they are not sent to embellish their character with a few constitutional virtues, before he will save them; they are not sent to learn a creed, or become proficients in the art of any ceremonial observances, before he will save them; the soul-stirring proclamation is, 'Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth: for I am God, and there is none else' (Isa. xlv. 22)."
"Your discourse, Sir, on Sunday evening, pleased me, but it has greatly perplexed me. It is an inversion of my order of thinking. I always thought that the intelligent and the virtuous were sure to go to heaven, but I had my doubts about others."
"They may be saved; though their intelligence and attainments place their salvation in great jeopardy. The virtues of some, like the vices of others, militate against them, and often decide the fatal issue."
"You greatly alarm and perplex me. As much danger in superior intelligence, and superior virtue, as in vulgar ignorance and offensive vice!"
"Yes, Madam, and sometimes there is more. The Pharisees of the New Testament were intelligent persons, and they were also virtuous and very religious; and yet with what fearful solemnity, and in what terrific forms of expression, did Jesus Christ denounce and condemn them—'Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness. Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell?' (Matt. xxiii. 27, 33)."
"My dear Sir, you stagger and confound me with alarm."
"You overlook, my dear Madam, one great fact, which is a solution of the perplexity which confounds you."
"And what is that fact?"
"All have sinned against God; and as a palpable proof of it, the sentence of death has been passed against all. This is a judicial sentence, which could not be inflicted unless there was delinquency, and consequent guilt. As the apostle says, 'Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned' (Rom. v. 12)."
"Then, Sir, am I to understand that all persons—the intelligent and the virtuous, and the ignorant and the vicious—are in the same moral condition—all on the same level?"
"You see that they are all doomed to death; because they have all sinned. The virtue of the most virtuous is no protection against death."
"True, Sir, but may it not prove a safe passport to heaven?"
"In that conception lurks the fatal danger of constitutional virtue, with its fascinating accompaniments of intelligence and mental attainments."
"I don't quite apprehend your meaning."
"Don't you perceive, my dear Madam, that by entertaining the conception that virtue will prove a safe passport to heaven, you substitute virtue in the place of Jesus Christ, the Friend of sinners; virtue is transformed from a mental quality into a saviour, and man saves himself? Now, we know from the infallible testimony of the Bible, that none are received from earth into heaven but redeemed SINNERS; and all when actually saved, ascribe their salvation to the death and grace of the Lord Jesus Christ. 'Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto God and his Father; to him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen' (Rev. i. 5, 6)."
"I am now convinced that I have much to renounce, and much to learn, before I can become a true Christian. I was taught to believe I was regenerated at the font of baptism. This delusion was practised on me when I was confirmed by the bishop. Why, Sir, I have been enveloped in delusion all my life. This is a most painful discovery. It takes me by surprise."
"Had you died under this delusion, you would have been at this moment a lost soul, moving about the dark and terrific world of spirits in absolute despair. You ought, my dear friend, to feel truly grateful to the God of all grace and consolation, that you have made the painful discovery before it is too late for rescue and effective relief."
"But, Sir, what must I do? I am compelled to leave the false refuge in which I have been dreaming of safety; but where shall I find the true one?"
"Jesus Christ receiveth sinners, when they feel that they are sinners, and then he will save them."
"I now feel that I need his help; but I do not know how to obtain it. My mind, Sir, is distracted—most painfully distracted. I don't know what to do. I see nothing clearly. I feel confused—painfully perplexed."
"You can pray, Lord save me, or I perish."
"I can offer that prayer, and offer it from the depth of my heart; but will Jesus Christ hear it, and will he answer it?"
"He will."
"Then I will try."
A few days after this interview I received a note from her, requesting me to make an early call; and when I went, she informed me that she had such a dread of delusion, she had made up her mind to search the Scriptures, and pursue the investigation till she thoroughly understood—quoting an expression she heard me use when in the pulpit—the unity, and harmony, and glory of the wonderful economy of redemption. To assist her in her studies, in addition to recommending Dr. Doddridge's Family Expositor, I forwarded to her a copy of Dr. Bates' Harmony of the Divine Attributes, giving it as my decided opinion, that she would acquire a larger amount of profound and accurate theological knowledge from a careful study of it, than from any other book in the English language.
During the time she was pursuing her spiritual researches, I deemed it expedient to avoid calling on her; but I had the gratification of seeing her both punctual and regular in her attendance at public worship. There was also a perceptible change in the aspect of her countenance; the pensive, and somewhat gloomy impression was entirely obliterated; her eye had resumed its native radiance; she appeared at ease. After the lapse of several weeks, I renewed my visit, which yielded me an adequate recompense for all my preceding solicitudes.
"I used, Sir, to read my Prayer Book more than my Bible, which made me idolize the church; but then I lightly esteemed Jesus Christ, the Rock of my salvation. I used to be very fond of the Oxford tracts, but they mystify the truth. They unduly exalt the sacraments, and cast a dimming shadow around the cross. They perpetuated the delusions of my early training, and were preparing me, not for heaven and happiness, but for Popery and its lying wonders. But, Sir, in what a state of delusion our clergy are living, and they don't know it; they are deceiving others, and don't know it!"
"That is true, Madam—painfully true. A spirit of delusion has come forth from the Evil One, and it has alighted on the great majority both of the clergy and laity of the Church of England; and, like insane persons, they are pleased and satisfied with the delusions under which they are living (Mat. xxiii. 13-28)."
"They should be warned of their danger; and warned, Sir, before it is too late."
"They scorn to heed warning when it is given. They hold fast deceit, as though it were the pearl of great price."
"What a wonderful and merciful escape I have had! Yes, Dr. Bates' Harmony is a safe antidote to mental delusions. I can now understand my Bible. I can now understand your preaching. I can now understand what is included in a favourite expression of yours, which for a long time so greatly perplexed me, 'The grand economy of human redemption.'"
"And I hope, my dear Madam, you have felt the renovating power of Divine truth and grace in your heart; that you have passed from a state of spiritual death to newness of life, and are become a new creature in Christ Jesus; that old things are passed away, and behold all things are become new."
"I certainly feel conscious of some internal spiritual change, when I compare the present state of my mind with its state some time since; though I sometimes doubt whether it is the spiritual regeneration of the soul of which I read so much in my Bible."
"But why do you doubt it? The change has not been produced by yourself, but by the grace of God; why, then, do you doubt either its reality or the divinity of its origin?"
"I do not doubt its reality, but I strongly suspect the divinity of its origin; because, after the most minute investigation of what has passed and still passes in my mind, I can discover nothing there but my own thoughts, emotions, desires, and purposes. These I find succeed each other in a natural, unforced order, under the guidance and control of my own will; which is as free to choose or reject them, as though no superior being were able to control it."
"Accurately to define the exact point where the human will and a Divine agency meet in the moral renovation of the soul, or to say when this mysterious junction takes place, requires a knowledge of the laws of the spiritual world which we can never hope to attain in this imperfect state. Unquestionably, your thoughts and emotions, your desires and purposes, appear to rise spontaneously in your mind, and actually succeed each other in a perfectly logical order; but who first sprang this new mine of thought and feeling? and by what power are these desires and purposes cherished and nurtured in your heart? If you suppose that all originated in the uninfluenced action of your own understanding and will, you are reduced to the necessity of denying the scriptural statement of the entire depravity of the human heart."
"That I cannot do; I admit that we are morally dead in relation to God, though we may cherish many of the social virtues in relation to each other; and I admit also that no one knoweth the things of God, but by the Spirit of God."
"Then you are compelled to admit his immediate agency in imparting a spiritual discernment; and an inclination also to receive those truths as the source of your most sacred and elevated joy, which appear to the natural man either as unnecessary or absurd. His Spirit acts, but we see only its effects. All is under his guidance and control, yet all appears to be the result of our own thoughts and purposes. He leads us in the way in which he would have us go, but his hand is unseen. He takes of the things of Christ and shows them to us, while we suppose that we discover them ourselves. He draws us to Jesus Christ, and enables us to depend on him for salvation; but we seem to direct our own steps, and put forth the unaided strength of our own mind. Thus the Holy Spirit effects our renovation, and makes us willing, in the day of his power, to come to Jesus Christ; while he sees fit to conceal his agency, and condescends, when we are examining ourselves to see whether we are in the faith, to bear witness with our spirits that we are the children of God."
"I thank you, Sir, for this very satisfactory explanation of a mental process, of which I have been conscious, while unconscious of the concurring power of the Divine Spirit, by whom it has been conducted. It reminds me of what the apostle Paul says in one of his epistles, which I have often meditated on, but could not clearly till now apprehend his meaning—'For it is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure' (Philip. ii. 13). I now perceive that the volitions and doings are ours, but it is God who works them within us; we have the blessing, and he claims the consequent gratitude and love."
"If, my dear friend, we differ from others, as I trust we do, to ascribe its origination to ourselves would be to arrogate the glory which belongs exclusively to God; and though we may sometimes suspect that the difference is not of Divine origin because we are not already perfect, yet I think we cannot fairly doubt its reality when we are brought into direct intercourse with the unenlightened and unrenewed, even though they may profess the same external forms of the Christian faith with ourselves."
"I can subscribe to the correctness of this remark; for when retiring from such society, I have often felt very grateful to the Lord for giving me views of truth, and enkindling in my soul emotions and desires, of which they appear absolutely destitute."
"The Psalmist says, 'All thy works shall praise thee, O Lord; and thy saints shall bless thee' (Ps. cxlv. 10). The new creation of the soul is the most wonderful specimen of the Divine workmanship; and every one in whom it is effected, will perpetually and for ever advert to it with mingled emotions of astonishment and gratitude."
No great while after Mrs. Lobeck had acquired this more perfect knowledge of the theory of Divine truth, and became rooted and grounded in its belief, she was received, with her husband, into fellowship with the church. They both distinguished themselves by their liberality, and by their activity in the various departments of labour connected with my congregation; and Mr. Lobeck was eventually elected an elder, by the unanimous choice of his Christian brethren. There was one praiseworthy habit they formed even before their membership; and from which no circumstances, except illness or absence from home, could induce them to deviate; and that was, neither to receive company, or pay any fraternal visits on the evenings when public worship was conducted at the chapel. They thus pursued their onward course with undeviating consistency; walking worthy of their sacred vocation; an example to their Christian brethren, in faith, in charity, and in zeal; blending in their character so many lovely excellencies, as to justify a beautiful remark made by an intelligent observer, that they had sustained as little injury from the fall, as any couple he had ever known.
Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth, is an aphorism which was first uttered by an inspired writer, and now it has passed into current circulation amongst the faithful in Christ Jesus; and as all chastisements, whether light and momentary, or heavy and prolonged, are designed to yield the peaceable fruits of righteousness, they should be submitted to with meek submissiveness of spirit, and unwavering faith in their necessity and utility. In general the Lord is pleased to give his people some intimations of their coming trials, that they may look to him for strength and patience to endure them; but sometimes he departs from this general rule, and, as in the case of Job, the storm rises out of the dead calm—the affliction is as sudden, as it is unexpected. The Lobecks had three children, two sons and a daughter, the living personifications of vigorous health and sprightliness; but the youngest child, a beautiful little boy about seven years of age, sickened and died within the space of a few hours. I hastened to the house of mourning to offer the expressions of my sympathy; and there I saw the intensity of parental sorrow, held in subjection to the triumph of heroic faith. There was a dignified placidity in Mr. Lobeck's countenance, but he could not repress the falling tear. "Our dear child is taken from us," he said in a mild but firm tone; "yet we must not forget that the Lord has done it, who has reasons for what he does; he does all things well. He never errs."
"This, Sir," said the mother, "is a great trial. I feel it at the very core of my heart. So sudden! We had no warning of its coming. Our medical friend did not apprehend any danger. But how thankful ought I to be to our heavenly Father, who has permitted me to see the bow in the overhanging cloud; the dear little sufferer said, just before he died, 'Ma, I am going to Jesus.' Sweet words!"
"The bitter, my dear friend, often yields sweetness. He was commissioned to announce to you his elevation, even before he had seen the King in his beauty, and received his appointment."
"The sound of his sweet voice still lingers on my ear, but the sweeter words of his lips have sunk deep into my heart; and they soothe and comfort me. He is happy, because a glorified spirit; and though I cannot help mourning over my loss, yet I dare not repine. Yes, he is with Jesus, and must be safe and happy."
"You may mourn your loss. This is natural. Jesus wept at the grave of his friend, even though he knew that he was coming back to life. Your dear little one will long live in your memory. You will often recall his form, his looks, his sweet smiles and embraces, his inquiries and his sayings. These reminiscences will keep in continuous flow the waters of maternal grief. But turn from his grave, to heaven his present home. Think of his premature elevation, his dignity, and his blessedness—the sorrows and the conflicts he has escaped. Think of the honour which God has conferred on you; you are now the mother of a glorified spirit."
"I feel it to be an honour, and a great honour. But I shall never forget my sweet little Harry. He was the miniature of his father. I watched his rapid growth, and the premature development of his mind with intense pleasure. His looks, and speech, and manners were so engaging. I anticipated his coming manhood. Alas! he is taken from me."
"Taken from the evil to come; and the Lord has done it."
"I bow to his holy and sovereign will. He saw there was a necessity for this severe stroke, or he would not have permitted it to fall upon us. Perhaps we were too fond of our children, and getting too fond of the world; and therefore he has sent this trial to wean our affections from earth; to purify them; to concentrate them supremely on himself."
"Many have been heard to say, It hath been good for me that I have been afflicted. Hence afflictions, even the most severe, are not positive evils; they are blessings in disguise to the people of God. They unsettle the affections which were cleaving too closely to earth; they elicit the hidden meaning of the precious promises of the Bible, which distil the dew drops of Divine love on the heart; and by giving palpable demonstrations of the vanity of all human possessions, they imperceptibly invest the glory to be revealed with a freshness of reality which is felt to be elevating and sublime."
At a subsequent interview, when adverting to this severe domestic bereavement, she thus expressed herself:—"I can now say, what I could not say before this trial came upon us—I know in whom I believe. My fears and misgivings have all left me. I am happy, because I know I am safe now; and expect to be more happy, when heart and flesh faint and fail, because then the Lord will be my portion for ever."
"Your dependence for safety and happiness, here and hereafter, is not now placed on your religious ceremonies, or on your virtuous attainments."
"O no! It was, when I was living under the beguiling delusions of the Tractarian heresy; but now I can say with the apostle, 'Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, and be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith' (Philip. iii. 8, 9)."
"I congratulate you, my dear friend, in having lived to see this day—a day of sorrow, but a day of greater joy and rejoicing. Your husband has exchanged his long cherished scepticism for the faith of Christ, and is now safe for eternity. Your dear little one is with Jesus, in heaven, waiting your entrance. And you are now delivered from all your perplexities and depressive fears, and can anticipate the glory to be revealed in you."
"These, Sir, are facts, great facts, astounding facts. No delusions, grand realities. What an escape has my dear husband had from the subtle devices of scepticism, and what an escape have I had from the equally fatal devices of Tractarian superstition; and I cannot forget the subordinate part you have taken, in effecting these deliverances; nor can I feel too grateful. I thank you for your wise counsels, for your faithful warnings, for your sympathy and your friendship; but my purest and most ardent gratitude is due, and is often presented to Him, who has produced these wonderful changes in our character and condition."
"And they are changes, my dear friend, which we may look upon as preludes and pledges of still more glorious changes, when the end cometh. 'Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is' (1 John iii. 2)."