"Why, Sir, the very design of the Christian revelation, given to us in the Bible, is not only to deliver us from the wrath to come, but from the dread of it. And this it does, when we believe in its Divine origin, and yield to its authority."
"I was a believer once, and fond of theological studies; but the predominant influence of my faith was most oppressive, at times agonizing. I could never rise above terror; the dread of being lost for ever haunted me almost day and night."
"If you watched the mental process which was going on during the time you were a believer in the Bible, and can now distinctly recollect it, perhaps you will perceive there was one great act you failed to perform, which is the testing and the decisive act of a genuine believer—the passing of the Rubicon."
"To what act do you refer?"
"To the act of coming to Jesus Christ, in compliance with his own invitation and promise—'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest' (Matt. xi. 28). 'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out'" (John vi. 37).
"Yes, Sir, I recollect having my eye often fixed on the two verses you have quoted, and others which speak of coming to him for life, and to be saved; but a veil of mystery hung over them which I could not lift up. I had the loftiest conceptions of his superhuman greatness and goodness; the fine blending of majesty and meekness, of dignity and condescension in his character, awakened my admiration; his pity, his love, his spotless purity, awed and delighted me; and I often felt indignant—a real loathing of spirit—when reflecting on the brutal treatment he met with from his countrymen; but I never could make out, from anything I read in the New Testament, how he could stand in the relation of a Saviour to me, or how I could perform that act of coming to him, on which he places the issue of salvation. And this is the origin of my unbelief. I had no wish to become an unbeliever; I became one against my inclination, and in opposition to early, and long-cherished, and endeared associations; but necessity compelled me; because, after long and intense thinking, I found that the proferred blessing of salvation was placed on an impracticable and an impossible contingency. Nor have I, as yet, had cause to regret it. I now can live without dread of the future; and I have no doubt, if there be another state of existence for man, as I feel inclined to believe there is, it will be one of happiness, to compensate for the sorrows and miseries which are endured in this."
"But suppose others have been enabled to perform this act of coming to Jesus Christ; and suppose, by performing it, they have entered into the actual possession of peace and joy in believing, then I think you must admit that the contingency on which the proferred blessing of salvation is suspended, comes within the capabilities of the human mind, and what others have done you might have done, and yet may live to do. By your permission I will give you a paragraph, as it bears so closely on the subject of our conversation, which one of the most distinguished men of the present age addressed to a philosophical friend. The writer had been for years a believer in the Divine origin of the Christian faith, but up to this period in his moral history, it was to him a system of abstract truths, which made no approaches to his heart, to engage his affections, or to influence his will. But by a succession of impulses and impressions, and new discoveries of his inner spirit, he began to feel restless—some degree of alarm, in fact, that he stood in need of a Saviour; and by reading the Bible with close attention, he found that Jesus Christ, who up to this time had moved in dim vision before his imagination, as an ideal or a mere historical being, was a living being, and just such a living being as he needed—one who could save him from his fears, and who alone could save him. The crisis in his moral history now arrived, and he says: 'I sicken at my own imperfect preparations. I take one decisive and immediate step, and resign my all to the sufficiency of my Saviour. I plead his own promise, that him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out. I come to him with my heart, such as it is, and I pray that the operation of his Spirit, and the power of his sanctifying faith, would make it such as it should be.' This is the experience and testimony of Dr. Chalmers, who tells us that after he thus believed and trusted in Christ, he had 'joyful moments;' he walked with God, living in the habitual expectation of eternal life."
"If, Sir, I now entertained the same belief in the truthfulness of the Bible which I once entertained, and which, without doubt, Dr. Chalmers entertained when he wrote to his friend the paragraph which you have just given to me, I should feel strongly inclined to attribute the predominancy of fear and dread over hope and peace, under which I ceaselessly suffered, to some defective view of revealed truth, or to some shortcoming in the mysterious act of mental obedience to a Divine requisition; but, to be candid, I cannot now look on the Bible with that degree of reverence I once did, and for many grave reasons. I have detected in it so many palpable errors, and so many irreconcilable discrepancies, that I cannot now receive it as a genuine and authentic revelation of the Deity."
"But neither errors nor discrepancies have ever been considered, by fair and impartial critics, as decisive evidence against the genuineness or authenticity of an ancient book; as errors, by careful collation, may be corrected, and discrepancies adjusted, as our knowledge becomes more accurate and extended. And this has been done in reference to the Bible, by many whose learning and integrity stamp a sterling worth on the result of their labours."
"I know, Sir, many men of learning, of taste, and of dogged honesty, who are staunch believers in the Bible, and candour compels me to admit that they have, to their own satisfaction, corrected the errors and harmonized the discrepancies which stagger my faith; and, perhaps, if I were to adopt the same process of labour, I might be equally successful; but I do not now see the necessity of it. I have arrived at a point of discovery which yields me as much satisfaction as you can feel in the discoveries which the Bible makes to you. I can feel, without such auxiliary aid, a calm repose in the sympathy of God with individual man, and a delight in meditating on his grandeur and his goodness, which, I think, cannot be surpassed by any emotion which the strongest faith in the promises of the Bible can inspire."