To James Lindsay — Letter 62
Dear brother.
The constant and daily observing of God's going along with you — in his coming, going, ebbing, flowing, embracing and kissing, frowning and striking — gives me, a witless and lazy observer of the Lord's way and working, a heavy blow. Could I keep sight of him, and know when I lack, and carry myself as became me in that condition, I would bless my case. First: for desertions, I think them like the lying fallow of lean and weak land for some years, while it gathers strength for a better crop. It is possible to gather gold where it may be had by moonlight. Oh if I could but creep one foot, or half a foot, nearer to Jesus in such a dismal night as that, when he is away — I should think it a happy absence. Second: if I knew the beloved were only gone away for trial and for further humbling, and not driven out of the house by fresh provocations, I would forgive desertions and hold my peace at his absence. But Christ's purchased absence — that I bought with my sin — is two running sores at once, one on either side, and what side then can I lie on? Third: I know as night and shadows are good for flowers, and moonlight and dews are better than a continual sun, so is Christ's absence of special use; it has some nourishing virtue in it, and gives sap to humility, and puts an edge on hunger, and furnishes a fair field for faith to put forth itself and to exercise its grip on what it does not see. Fourth: it is mercy's wonder and grace's wonder that Christ will lend a portion of the lodging and a back room beside himself to our lusts, and that he and such swine should keep house together in our soul. For suppose they huddle and contract themselves into little room when Christ comes in, and seem to lie as dead under his feet, yet they often break out again. And that a foot of the old man, or a leg or arm nailed to Christ's cross, looses the nail or breaks out again — and yet Christ, beside this unruly and ill-bred neighbor, can still be making heaven in the saints one way or another. May I not say, 'Lord Jesus, what are you doing here?' Yet here he must be; but I will only lose my footing trying to go on into this depth and wonder, for free mercy and infinite merits took a lodging for Christ and us beside so loathsome a guest as sin. Fifth: sanctification and the mortification of our lusts are the hardest part of Christianity. It is in a manner as natural to us to leap when we see the new Jerusalem as to laugh when we are tickled; joy is not under command or at our nod when Christ kisses. But oh, how many of us would have Christ divided in two halves, that we might take only one half of him — take his office as Jesus and salvation; but 'Lord' is a troublesome word, and to obey and work out our own salvation and to perfect holiness — that is the troublesome and stormy north side of Christ, and that we avoid and shift. Sixth: for your question about the access that the reprobate have to Christ — which is none at all, for to the Father in Christ neither can they nor will they come, because Christ did not die for them; and yet by law, God and justice overtakes them — I say this: First assertion: all of God's justice toward man and angels flows from an act of the absolute, sovereign, free will of God, who is our Maker and potter, and we are but clay. For if he had forbidden eating of the rest of the trees of the Garden of Eden and commanded Adam to eat of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, that command would no doubt have been as just as the one given: 'Eat of all the trees, but not at all of the tree of knowledge of good and evil.' The reason is, because his will is before his justice by order of nature, and what is his will is his justice; he does not will things outside himself because they are just. God cannot, God needs not, hunt sanctity, holiness, or righteousness from things outside himself, and so not from the actions of men or angels, because his will is essentially holy and just, and the prime rule of holiness and justice — as fire is naturally light and inclines upward, and earth is heavy and inclines downward. Second assertion: that God says to the reprobate, 'Believe in Christ, who has not died for your salvation, and you shall be saved,' is just and right, because his eternal and essentially just will has so enacted and decreed. Though natural reason speaks against this, this is the deep and special mystery of the gospel. God has obligated firmly all the reprobate in the visible church to believe his promise: 'He that believes shall be saved'; and yet in God's decree and secret intention, there is no salvation at all decreed and intended for reprobates. And yet the obligation of God, being from his sovereign free will, is most just, as stated in the first assertion. Third assertion: the righteous Lord has right over the reprobate and all rational creatures that violate his commandments. This is straightforward. Fourth assertion: the faith that God seeks of the reprobate is that they rely upon Christ, despairing of their own righteousness, leaning wholly and humbly — as weary and burdened — upon Christ as on the resting stone laid in Zion. But he does not require that without being weary of their sin they rely on Christ as mankind's Savior; for to rely on Christ and not to be weary of sin is presumption, not faith. Faith is always neighbor to a contrite spirit, and it is impossible that faith can be where there is not a cast-down and contrite heart in some measure for sin. Now it is certain God commands no man to presume. Fifth assertion: then reprobates are not absolutely obligated to believe that Christ died for them in particular; for in truth neither reprobates nor others are obligated to believe a lie. They are only obligated to believe 'Christ died for me' if they are first weary, burdened, sin-sick, and condemned in their own consciences, and struck dead and killed with the law's sentence, and have indeed embraced him as offered — which is a second and subsequent act of faith, following after a coming to him and closing with him. Sixth assertion: reprobates are not formally guilty of contempt of God and unbelief because they do not apply Christ and the promises of the gospel to themselves in particular; for they would be guilty for not believing a lie, which God never obligated them to believe. Seventh assertion: justice has a right to punish reprobates, because out of pride of heart, confiding in their own righteousness, they do not rely upon Christ as a Savior of all who come to him. This God may justly require of them, because in Adam they had perfect ability to do so; and men are guilty because they love their own inability and rest upon themselves, and refuse to deny their own righteousness and take themselves to Christ, in whom there is righteousness for wearied sinners. Eighth assertion: it is one thing to rely, lean, and rest upon Christ in humility and weariness of spirit, denying our own righteousness and believing him to be the only righteousness of wearied sinners; and it is another thing to believe that Christ died for me, John, Thomas, Anna, upon an intention and decree to save us by name. For, first, the former comes first, the latter always comes after in due order. Second, the former is faith; the second is a fruit of faith. Third, the former obligates reprobates and all men in the visible church; the latter obligates only the weary and burdened, and so only the elect and effectually called of God. Ninth assertion: it is a vain logic to say, 'I know not if Christ died for me, John, Thomas, Anna by name, and therefore I dare not rely on him?' The reason is that it is not faith to believe God's intention and decree of election first, before you are weary. Look first to your own heart: if you find sin a burden, and can and do rest under that burden upon Christ, if this be once, now come and believe in particular — or rather apply by sense, for in my judgment it is a fruit of belief, not belief itself — and feel the goodwill, intention, and gracious purpose of God concerning your salvation. Hence, because there is malice in reprobates and contempt of Christ, guilty they are, and justice has law against them. And which is the mystery: they cannot come up to Christ because he did not die for them; but their sin is that they love this their inability to come to Christ. And he who loves his chains deserves chains. And thus in short — remember my bonds.
Aberdeen, September 7, 1637. Yours in his sweet Lord Jesus, S. R.
