7. For all this time, he is the servant of sin. He commits sin, more or less, day by day. Yet he is not troubled: He “is in no bondage;” (as some speak) he feels no condemnation. He contents himself, (even tho’ he should profess to believe that the Christian revelation is of God) with, “Man is frail. We are all weak. Every man has his infirmity.” Perhaps he quotes scripture:“Why, does not Solomon say, ‘The righteous man falls into sin seven times a day?’ And doubtless, they are all hypocrites or enthusiasts who pretend to be better than their neighbours.” If at any time a serious thought fix upon him, he stifles it as soon as possible, with, “Why should I fear, since God is merciful, and Christ died for sinners?” Thus he remains a willing servant of sin, content with the bondage of corruption; inwardly and outwardly unholy, and satisfied therewith; not only not conquering sin, but not striving to conquer, particularly that sin, which doth so easily beset him.
8. Such is the state of every natural man; whether he be a gross, scandalous transgressor, or a more reputable and decent sinner, having the form, tho’ not the power of godliness. But how can such an one be convinced of sin? How is he brought to repent? To be under the law? To receive the spirit of bondage unto fear? This is the point which is next to be consider’d.
II. 1. By some awful providence, or by his word applied with the demonstration of his Spirit, God touches the heart of him that lay asleep in darkness and in the shadow of death. He is terribly shaken out of his sleep, and awakes into a consciousness of his danger. Perhaps in a moment, perhaps by degrees, the eyes of his understanding are opened, and now first (the veilbeing in part removed) discern the real state he is in. Horrid light breaks in upon his soul; such light, as may be conceived to gleam from the bottomless pit, from the lowest deep, from a lake of fire, burning with brimstone. He at last sees the loving, the merciful God, is also a consuming fire; that he is a just God and a terrible, rendering to every man according to his works, entering into judgment with the ungodly for every idle word, yea, and for the imaginations of the heart. He now clearly perceives, that the great and holy God is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity: that he is an avenger of every one who rebelleth against him, and repayeth the wicked to his face; and that it is a fearful thing, to fall into the hands of the living God.
3. The inward, spiritual meaning of the law of God now begins to glare upon him. He perceives the commandment is exceeding broad, and there is nothing hid from the light thereof. He is convinced, that every part of it relates not barely to outward sin or obedience, but to what passes in the secret recesses of the soul, which no eye but God’s can penetrate. If he now hears, Thou shalt not kill, God speaks in thunder, He that hateth his brother is a murtherer. He that saith unto his brother, Thou fool, is obnoxious to hell-fire. If the law say, Thou shalt not commit adultery, the voice of the Lord sounds in his ears, He that looketh on a woman, to lust after her, hath committed adultery with her already in hisheart. And thus in every point, he feels the word of God quick and powerful, sharper than a two-edged sword. It pierces even to the dividing asunder of his soul and spirit, his joints and marrow. And so much the more, because he is conscious to himself of having neglected so great salvation; of having trodden under foot the Son of God, who would have saved him from his sins, and counted the blood of the covenant an unholy, a common, unsanctifying thing.
4. And as he knows all things are naked and opened unto the eyes of him with whom we have to do, so he sees himself, naked, stript of all the fig-leaves which he had sewed together, of all his poor pretences to religion or virtue, and his wretched excuses for sinning against God. He now sees himself, like the ancient sacrifices, τετραχηλισμένον, cleft in sunder, as it were, from the neck downward, so that all within him stands confest. His heart is bare, and he sees it is all sin, deceitful above all things, desperately wicked; that it is altogether corrupt and abominable, more than it is possible for tongue to express: that there dwelleth therein no good thing, but unrighteousness and ungodliness only; every motion thereof, every temper and thought, being only evil continually.
5. And he not only sees, but feels in himself, by an emotion of soul which he cannot describe, that for the sins of his heart, were his life without blame, (which yet it is not, and cannot be:seeing an evil tree cannot bring forth good fruit) he deserves to be cast into the fire that never shall be quenched. He feels, that the wages, the just reward of sin, of his sin above all, is death; even the second death, the death which dieth not, the destruction of body and soul in hell.
6. * Here ends his pleasing dream, his delusive rest, his false peace, his vain security. His joy now vanishes as a cloud: pleasures, once loved delight no more. They pall upon the taste; he loaths the nauseous sweet; he is weary to bear them. The shadows of happiness flee away, and sink into oblivion. So that he is stript of all, and wanders to and fro, seeking rest, but finding none.
7. The fumes of those opiates being now dispelled, he feels the anguish of a wounded spirit. He finds that sin let loose upon the soul (whether it be pride, anger, or evil desire, whether self-will, malice, envy, revenge, or any other) is perfect misery. He feels sorrow of heart for the blessings he has lost, and the curse which is come upon him; remorse for having thus destroyed himself, and despised his own mercies; fear, from a lively sense of the wrath of God, and of the consequences of his wrath; of the punishment which he has justly deserved, and which he sees hanging over his head; fear of death, as being to him the gate of hell, the entrance of death eternal; fear of the devil, the executioner of the wrath and righteous vengeanceof God; fear of men, who if they were able to kill his body, would thereby plunge both body and soul into hell; fear, sometimes arising to such a height, that the poor, sinful, guilty soul, is terrified with every thing, with nothing, with shades, with a leaf shaken of the wind. Yea sometimes it may even border upon distraction, making a man drunken, tho’ not with wine, suspending the exercise of the memory, of the understanding, of all the natural faculties. Sometimes it may approach to the very brink of despair: so that he who trembles at the name of death, may yet be ready to plunge into it every moment, to chuse strangling rather than life. Well may such a man roar, like him of old, for the very disquietness of his heart. Well may he cry out, The spirit of a man may sustain his infirmities; but a wounded spirit who can bear?
8. Now he truly desires to break loose from sin, and begins to struggle with it. But tho’ he strive with all his might, he cannot conquer; sin is mightier than he. He would fain escape; but he is so fast in prison, that he cannot get forth. He resolves against sin, but yet sins on: he sees the snare, and abhors, and runs into it. So much does his boasted reason avail! Only to inhance his guilt, and increase his misery. Such is the freedom of his will! Free only to evil; free to drink in iniquity like water; to wander farther and farther from the living God, and do more despight to the Spirit of grace!
9. The more he strives, wishes, labours to be free, the more does he feel his chains, the grievous chains of sin, wherewith Satan binds and leads him captive at his will: his servant he is, tho’ he repine ever so much; tho’ he rebel, he cannot prevail. He is still in bondage and fear, by reason of sin: generally, of some outward sin to which he is peculiarly disposed, either by nature, custom or outward circumstances; but always, of some inward sin, some evil temper or unholy affection. And the more he frets against it, the more it prevails; he may bite, but cannot break his chain. Thus he toils without end, repenting and sinning, and repenting and sinning again, till at length the poor sinful, helpless wretch is even at his wit’s end, and can barely groan, O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?