God's Way of Peace

The Verdict

God knows us; He knows what we are, He knows what He meant us to be, and He sees the vast difference between these two things. God’s testimony concerning man is that he is a sinner: “there is none righteous, no, not one…. There is none that doeth good, no, not one” (Romans 3:10-12). God declares man to be a lost one, a stray one, a rebel, a hater of God. Man is not a sinner occasionally, but a sinner always; not a sinner in part, with many good things about him, but wholly a sinner, with no compensating goodness. He is evil in heart as well as life, “dead in trespasses and sins” (Ephesians 2:1).

When the Holy Spirit opens the eyes of the soul it sees this judgment is true. Conviction of sin is just the sinner seeing himself as he is—the way that God has seen him all along. Then every fond idea of self-goodness vanishes away. The things in him that once seemed good appear empty, and the bad things so very bad, that every hope of being saved because of something in his own character is taken away. He sees that he cannot save himself, nor even help God to save him. He is lost, and he is helpless.

Doings, feelings, strivings, prayings, givings, abstainings, and the like, are found to be no relief from a sense of guilt, and, therefore, no resting-place for a troubled heart. If sin was just a disease or a misfortune, religious deeds might be seen as favorable symptoms of returning health. But sin is more than a disease, and the sinner is not merely sick, but condemned by the righteous Judge. None of these goodnesses can give him peace, for they cannot assure him of a complete and righteous pardon.

The Remedy

The question, “How can I be made fit to come before the Lord?” cannot be answered with an appeal to personal character, or goodness of life, or prayers, or performances of religion. The sinner’s peace with God does not come from within. No grounds of peace or elements of reconciliation can be extracted from himself. His one qualification for peace is that he needs it.

A sinner’s peace can only come from God, and it is in knowing God that he gets it: “Acquaint now thyself with Him, and be at peace” (Job 22:21). God Himself is the fountainhead of our peace. His revealed truth in the Bible is the channel through which this peace finds its way into us, and His Holy Spirit is the great interpreter of that truth to us.

God has declared Himself to be gracious, and has told us that this grace is for the ungodly, the unholy, the unfit, the dead in sin. He has embodied this grace in the person and work of His beloved Son. Turn your eye to the cross and see these two things: the crucifiers and the Crucified. The crucifiers, the haters of God and His Son, represent us. The Crucified is God Himself—incarnate love. It is the God who made you, suffering and dying for the ungodly.

Hear the word of the Lord concerning this finished work:

• “Christ died for our sins” (1 Corinthians 15:3).
• “He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities” (Isaiah 53:5).
• “Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many” (Hebrews 9:28).
• “Christ also hath once suffered for sins, the Just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God” (1 Peter 3:18).
• “His own self bare our sins in His own body on the tree” (1 Peter 2:24).

These expressions speak of something more than love. The deep, true, real love of God is in each of them, but so are justice and holiness. If we were going to be saved from eternal death, there was the need of a death; righteousness demands this. To meet this terrible necessity, the Son of God became a man and died! Love led Him down to the cradle; love led Him up to the cross! He died as the sinner’s substitute. He died to make it a righteous thing for God to cancel the sinner’s guilt and annul the penalty of his everlasting death.

Had it not been for His death, grace and guilt could not have looked each other in the face. God and the sinner could not have been brought together; righteousness would have forbidden reconciliation. As we know, righteousness is as divine and real a thing as love. Without this perfect sacrifice, it would not have been right for God to receive the sinner, nor safe for the sinner to come.

What peace there is for the stricken conscience in the truth that Christ died for the ungodly! The cross is the payment of the sinner’s penalty, the extinction of his debt, and the tearing up of the charges which were against us. Just as the cross is the payment, so is the resurrection God’s receipt—for the full amount—signed with His own hand.

The Response

The sinner may well ask: “How can I come before God, and stand in His presence, with happy confidence on my part, and gracious acceptance on His?” He wants you to come to Him exactly as you are, without even one vain thought that by a little waiting, or working, or praying, you can make yourself ready, or persuade Him to make you fit to receive salvation.

Faith is the link, the one link, between the sinner and the Sin-bearer. Faith is not a work or exercise of our minds, which must be properly performed in order to qualify or fit us for pardon. Faith is not a religious duty, which must be gone through according to certain rules, in order to induce Christ to give us the benefits of his work. Faith is simply receiving the divine record concerning the Son of God, recognizing the completeness of His great sacrifice for sin, and the trueness of the Father’s testimony to that completeness.

Here are just a few examples of what God has spoken about faith: 

• “Without faith it is impossible to please [God]” (Hebrews 11:6).
• “He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life: and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him” (John 3:36).
• “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved” (Acts 16:31).
• “To him that worketh not, but believeth on Him that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted for righteousness” (Romans 4:5).
• “If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised Him from the dead, thou shalt be saved” (Romans 10:9).
• “This is His commandment, That we should believe on the name of His Son Jesus Christ” (1 John 3:23).

These are some of the many texts which show that it is our belief of God’s testimony concerning His own free love, and the work of his Son, that makes us partakers of the blessings which that testimony reveals. They show us that it is the object of faith—the person, or thing, or truth of which faith lays hold—that is the soul’s peace and consolation. They also announce most solemnly the necessity of believing, and the greatness of the sin of unbelief.

God can never be satisfied with you on account of any goodness about you, so why should you attempt to be satisfied with anything which will not satisfy Him? There is just one thing with which He is entirely satisfied—the person and work of His only begotten Son. It is with Him that He wants you to be satisfied. How much better would it be to take God’s way at once, and be satisfied with Christ? Then pardon and peace will be given without delay.

“This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17).

—Condensed from God’s Way of Peace by Horatius Bonar.

Source: http://www.mwtb.org

The Halfhearted Christian

By Horatius Bonar, taken from Christ and the World (1867)
2 Cor. 6:14, James 4:4, 1 John 2:15

There is another class of a much more uncertain and indefinite kind—whose object seems to be to get hold of both worlds. They want to infuse as much religion into their life, their doings, their conversation, as will make them be reckoned religious men; at least, save them from the imputation of being worldly men. They want as much of worldly comfort and pleasure as will gratify their carnal tastes. Their life is a compromise; and their object is to balance between two adverse interests, to adjust the conflicting claims of this world and of the world to come; to please and to serve two masters, to gratify two tastes, to walk in two opposite ways at once, to secure the friendship of the world without losing the friendship of God.

The character as well as the life of these men is undecided and feeble. They are not decided in their worldliness, and they are not decided in their religion. If they were compelled to choose between their two masters, the probability is that they would prefer the world; for their heart is not in their religion, and religion is not in their heart. Religion is irksome to them; it is a yoke, not a pleasant service. They don't want to part with it, for several good reasons; but they have no delight in it. Their consciences would not allow them to throw it off; but it occupies a very small part of their thoughts and affections. They are, in fact, worldly men varnished over with religion; that is all. They are made up of two parts, a dead and a living; the living part is the world, the dead is religion.

There are many of these in our day, when religion is fashionable. When religion is unfashionable, there are few; when it is scoffed at, still fewer; when it is persecuted, hardly any. But when it is in fashion, they are numerous. They may go under many names—formalists, externalists, half-hearted Christians, half-and-half disciples; they may put on more or less of religion; they may indulge more or less in worldliness; still, the class I speak of is, in all circumstances, substantially the same. They have never broken with sin, nor crucified self, nor taken up the cross. Whatever their lives or their words may be—their heart is not right with God.

Some of these are people who have been brought up in worldliness, and who have, as they grew up, added a little religion to their worldliness, to make it respectable. Others have been religiously brought up from childhood; they have been well taught in the things of Christ; they have had their religious impressions, some deeper, some shallower; and these have remained for a season, so as to mold their character and life considerably. But such feelings have never gone deep enough; they never led to the new birth; they issue in no lasting spiritual life, so that, instead of leading to the transformation of the whole man, inner and outer, they have merely religionized the outer man, leaving the inner man unmelted, unbroken, and unrenewed. The people thus moved have gone a considerable way—but not the whole. They have been roused—but not converted. They have passed through a certain religious process—but not experienced the heavenly change, without which they cannot enter the kingdom. They have felt a good deal, read a good deal, prayed a good deal; they have not been without their earnestness and solemnity, perhaps their sighs and tears. They have been moved under sermons; roused by searching books; done many things and taken many steps which seemed to be religious. Yet, after all, there has been no broken-heartedness; no opening of the eye, no breaking off from sin, no surrender of the soul to God, no crucifixion of the old man, no resurrection to newness of life.

After a while, in such cases, a deep and fixed formalism has settled in. Earnestness has faded away, and left nothing but its dregs. The soul has become sapless and insensible. The edge of feeling, both upon heart and conscience, has become blunted. The 'routine of religion' is still gone through, and the 'profession' still kept up; but all within is dried up and withered; there is no enjoyment of spiritual things; the service of God is a burden; praise and prayer are irksome; sermons and sacraments are wearisome; and the poor professor moves on in his heartless career; outwardly still religious—but at heart unspiritual and worldly.

In such a case, with a religion in which he has no enjoyment, and with a profession which brings him no liberty and no comfort, it is not astonishing that he should have recourse to the world, to fill up the dreary void within. His carnal tastes never having been radically changed—but simply overborne for a season, by a rush of religious performances. So he returns naturally to gratify his carnal tastes in their old objects. His only restraints are the dread of a dark future, which he cannot shake off, and the desire to maintain a religious profession, to stand well with religious men, and to maintain his place in the church. How many of this class there may be in our day, God only knows. We are warned that, in the last days, there will be multitudes having the form of godliness—but denying its power.

These are the ambiguous disciples of our age, who belong to Christ only in name. These are the stony-ground or thorny-ground hearers; men who have a place at our communion tables, who join in religious committees, who make speeches on religious platforms, yet are, after all, "wells without water," "trees without root," stars without either heat or light.

The religion of such is but a half-and-half religion; without depth, or decision, or vigor, or self-sacrifice. It is but a 'picture' or a 'statue'—not a living man.

The conversion of such has been but a half-and-half conversion; it has not gone down to the lowest depths of the man's nature. I do not say it is all pretense or hypocrisy; but still, I say it is an unreality. It has been a movement, a shaking, a change—but it has not been a being "begotten of God," a being "born from above."

The discipleship of such is but a half-and-half discipleship. It has some of the aspects of discipleship; but it is not a forsaking all, and taking up the cross and following Christ. We do not count as genuine, the discipleship of the man who is today with Christ, tomorrow with the world; today in the sanctuary, tomorrow at the dance. There must be suspicion attaching to all such inconsistent discipleship; it is both cold and hot; it is both worldly and unworldly; it is both Christian and un-Christian—what can it be?—what can it mean?

In speaking of such inconsistencies, we must be faithful and direct. We are not to prophesy smooth things, and hint at certain evils, as if they were but minor imperfections, the quiet removal of which would set all right. No; we must strike deeper than this. We must lay the axe to the root of the tree, and say at once, that such inconsistencies betray the utter unsoundness of the man's whole religious profession. It is not that there are some flaws in his religious life; it is that his religion itself is hollow—without foundation, without root or soil. I will not say it is all a lie; for there is sometimes a certain amount of good intention in it; but it is all a mistake—a great and dreadful mistake; a mistake which, if not rectified at once, must issue in the fearful darkness and woeful disappointment of an undone eternity!

Such a man's whole religious life is one grand delusion; and every step he takes in it is a blunder, and a stumble, and a snare. Let such a man know that, in his present half-worldly, half-religious condition, he has no real religion at all. It is a fabrication, a delusion. It will stand no test of law or gospel, of conscience or of discipline, of time or of eternity. It will go to pieces with the first touch. It is all hollow, and must be begun again, from the very first stone of the foundation.

If, then, O worldly formalist, you would make sure your hope, and obtain a discipleship that will stand all tests, begin this day at the beginning. Count all the past but loss. Fling away your vain hopes and self-righteous confidences. Give up your fond idea of securing both earth and heaven. Go straight to Calvary; there be you crucified to the world, and the world to you, by the cross of Christ. Go straight to the grave of Christ; there bring all your sins, your worldliness, your half-heartedness, and all pertaining to your old self, that being made partaker of Christ's death and burial, you may be sharer of his resurrection too. Go at once to Him who died and rose again, and drink into his love. One draught, no, one drop of that love will forever quench your love of sin, and be the death of that worldliness which threatens to be your eternal ruin. The love of Christ will not only make you an out and out Christian, a thoroughgoing, decided man in all the things of God—but it will pour in a peace which you have never known, which you cannot know—except by simple faith in the heavenly Peacemaker, and in entire surrender of soul to him who gave himself for us, that he might deliver us from a present evil world, according to the will of God our Father.

A new creature

by Horatius Bonar, condensed from "Christ and the New Creation", 1867

"If any man is in Christ, he is a new creature: old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new." 2 Corinthians 5:17

What condemnation do these words pronounce upon the shallow, meager religion so common among us--making us feel that hardly any description of its professors could be more exaggerated or unreal, than that of being "new creatures."

Take yon member of the church. He wears the garb and bears the name of Christ. He is a fair average specimen of a large class. He has the profession of being a Christian; yet . . .
he is fond of the world;
he grasps at its gold;
he loves its fashionable gaiety;
he reads its novels;
he frequents its haunts of amusement;
he enjoys its company;
he relishes its foolish talking and jesting. Is he "a new creature" in Christ Jesus?

Is it possible that, with . . .
so much worldliness,
so much selfishness,
so much self-indulgence,
so much pleasing of the flesh,
he can have been "born again," whatever his profession may be?

"A new creature!" Then . . .
old feelings,
old habits,
old tastes,
old hopes,
old joys,
old sorrows,
old haunts,
old companionships
--all are gone! Old things have passed away, all things have become new!

Formerly, I sought the things of this world. So now, by the necessity of my new nature, I seek the things above. Sin has become hateful, holiness supremely attractive.

My vision has been purged, so that now I see everything as with a new eye; the evil, with an eye which loathes it; the holy, with an eye which loves it. I approach everything with . . .
new feelings,
new tastes,
new sympathies,
new antipathies.
I behold everything in a new light, and from a new point of view. Myself, this world, the world to come, God, Christ, and the everlasting joys--all these are to me now, what they have never been before! My whole inner man has changed respecting them. There has been a new creation! What, then, have I to do with sin, with the flesh, with the vanities of so vain a life, as the men of this world are leading?

Oh, the unimaginable blessedness of those on whom this new creation has taken place! Oh, the unutterable, the endless misery of those on whom no change has passed--in whom old things still remain!

HT: http://www.gracegems.org