Letters to an anxious inquirer designed to relieve the difficultires of a friend

Front matter

l a^J^JARU

Book ix

ILffiffilPiEIBft

Letter II

Mistaken views — Danger of reliance on feeling — The duty of avoiding unnecessary association with the World- Counting the cost — On the opposition of others — A melancholy instance — Advice — An instance of the happy effects of Christian prudence — Discouragements from luke-warm Christians — The folly of relinquishing the subject in consequence of external difficulties — Encou* ragement.

X.

Letter III

Those difficulties which are of least importance most generally discouraging — Impatience arising from disappoint ted expectations — A complaint — Its causes — The dread of increasing anxiety — A false conclusion — Evils arising from natural buoyancy of feeling — Difficulty in the doctrine of Election — Inclination and despair aid each other — "I am seeking," a false plea — " I am waiting for a day of power" — " I am waiting for God to do his part."

Letter IV

Previous misconceptions — Cause of delay — Any delay or suffering the fault of the sinner — Mistake relating to the necessity of a certain preparatory process — Scripture examples — Error relating to prayer — " I am not prepared" — ss I am not holy enough" — The inconsistency of the com" plainer — On insensibility — Want of clear views of sin — Degrees of conviction not necessary to be observed — Why conviction is more difficult to be effected in a man of strict morality — The Gospel invites without reference to the degree of conviction.

Letter V

Complaint of irresolution — Nature of unstable resolutions — Peculiarity of situation — The folly of speculating on the expected change — Vain fancies — " God will not pardon me." — " I do not see how the promises can be fulfilled in myself" — The sufficiency of pardon — Advice.

Letter VI

Our propension to extremes — Unpardonable sin — Explanation of passages relating to it— An example of the danger of error on this subject.

XI.

Letter VII

fhe disposition to discouragement — Discouraging texts in the Bible — An explanation of Luke, xiii. 24 — Prov. i. 88 — Hebrew, xii. 17 — Hosea, iv. 17.

Letter VIII

Perplexity in reading the word of God — Complaint of the want of personal application — Natural aversion to the Bible — Mistaken expectations — An impious practice — Failure arising from listlessness in reading — Want of consideration — Forgetting that God is the author — Look* ing for an extraneous something — How the Spirit imparts the right meaning — Duty of becoming familiar with the plan of salvation — Caution relative to reading other books — Concluding advice.

Letter IX

The folly of spending time in attempting to reconcile difficult passages — The duty of diligence in examining the proper application of the truth — The question, " what part of the Bible shall I read ?" — Quotations — Application of a Parable — A personal appeal to Christ directed in Scripture — Conclusion.

tiA

On right desires — The Young Man in the Gospel — A complaint of the Inquirer — One of tlie marks of right desires — >A misinterpretation of Romans, ix. 3 — Right,.desires not a mere fear of Hell — The breathings of—an awakened sinner — Reformation of life connected with sincerity— And the spirit of forgiveness on our part — Right desires not fitful — Trials — Advice.

XII.

LETTER XL

Difficulties in prayer— Causes — Mistake respecting the nature of prayer — Contusion in the mind of the Inquirer — False anticipations in prayer — Perplexity from an ignorance of the person addressed — Directions in prayer — The duty of describing personal trials — Habit of attention — Remedy for wandering thoughts — Application of special promises — Scriptural examples — Seasons for Prayer — Ejaculatory desires — Forms — Does God " ever withhold his Grace, for a season, to try the sinner 1" — Answered.

LETTER XII.

A common error adverted to again—An evil from Theology ical distinctions — Different kinds of repentance — The Scriptural distinction — Sorrow does not constitute repen^ tance — The perversion of legal sorrow to a false hope — Examples — The error reproyed in Scripture — Its cause- Causes leading to repentance — The process — Evangelical sorrow follows — Difference between counterfeit and true repentance- — Conclusion.

LETTER XIII.

An Inquirer reviewing his past cares — A remarkable period in his life — The simplicity of faith — A temptation to hold back from Christ — Natural incredulousness — The afflicted Father's application to Christ — The case applied to the Inquirer — The workings of the Inquirer's mind — His surrender to Christ — The change — Difference in different cases — The act in which relief most cornmonly arrives-^Not always the same— Valedictory.

m^&OBWO^EOBfc

While the Religious Public have been weii provided with Doctrinal and Practical works, and furnished with many valuable expositions of the Word of God ; and while the divine system of Christianity itself has been ably defended against the cavils of its assailants, it is a matter of surprise to many, that a most interesting department of sacred literature has been either entirely neglected, or occupied by remarks of so general a nature as to answer very imperfectly the end for which thev were designed. 1 refer to that department of instruction which is suited to the particular exigences of a Religious Inquirer, or an Awakened Sinner.

XIV. INTRODUCTION.

There is certainly no state of mind which involves more interest in its issue, or presents a more imperative claim on our sympathies, or brings more effectually into exercise our hopes and our fears, than that of the man who has been partially aroused from the slumber of spiritual death, and looks around him with an agitated feeling, to ask— " what shall I do to he saved ? w

To excite the conscience to at least a momentary activity, is very often far more easy than to meet that class of perplexities and cares to which such an excitement may lead. And hence we see many who find it no hard task to point the penalty of the law to the heart of the sinner, and to bring in array before him the terrors of an offended God ; and yet whose whole instructions to one in this interesting state, are so vague, and so ill-defined, as to shed no light upon his path, and to give him no clear conceptions of his real condition.

Two things strike an observer of the awakened sinner, and call for all the prudence and cau-

INTRODUCTION. XV, tion with which advice or counsel may be given : These arc — bis difficulties and his dangers.

Among the difficulties of which he is ready to complain, is that of the want of something suitable to his own peculiar state. We follow Apostolic example when we recommend him to " believe and repent." But he is not unapt to tell us that he requires a more explicit direction than this. We commend him to prayer and the Word of God. But even the effort to regard this injunction, he informs us, furnishes new cares, and exhibits new obstacles in his way. His necessities muliipty, and his demands increase.

Now it would be easy to charge much of the evil upon himself, and prove to him from the economy of grace, and the character of his God, that all the fault lies within his own heart ; and this is a melancholy truth of which we should not permit him to lose sight. But he returns from all this to ask the particular character of the default, its causes, and the means of its removal.

XVI. INTRODUCTION.

If we put into his hands any of the valuable little treatises which were designed to alarm the unconverted sinner, he may assent to the truths they contain ; but while his convictions are deepened, his personal difficulties are still not reached. There is much, very much, which remains unexplained ; and which, while it lasts, multiplies itself: or extends through new ramifications, and creates new embarrassments. And his demand is more importunate than ever, for some instruction adapted to that idiosyncrasy of character, which he conceives to distinguish his present condition. Here is an eagerness of appetite which disposes him to seize, with avidity, on all that bears a remote resemblance to the fancied object of his wants. And it is to meet this, that any counsel we may give, should enter as far as possible into the familiarities of the heart. And yet to do so, important as it is, requires some further knowledge of the case than we may be able to obtain.

Where the inquirer is disposed to present the

INTRODUCTION". Xvii.

exact state of his mind ; and where he is able to define his feelings, the plain good sense of a private Christian may enable him to say all that is necessary. But the inquirer is not always willing to do the former; and he is very often incompetent to accomplish the latter. And yet indisposed, or unable, as he may be to do either, his solicitude is not the less to learn the grand serret of the causes and remedy of his moral disorder.

Now if we were unable to meet this whole cmrstion, there is one thing which it is not out of our power to do — I mean that of furnishing to the sight of the sufferer, cases analogous to his own ; or cases which may possibly strike him as similar.

Even where we are at a loss to account, in all respects, for the existence of a particular experience, we do much for the inquirer by describing it. We prevent painful conclusions, which he is very apt to deduce from a supposed singularity ; and we enable him to draw inferences fojf

XVlil. INTRODUCTION.

himself, which may preserve him from the extreme of presumption or despair. We abstract his attention from extraneous cares, and fix it on something which may give a clue to the windings of his heart. The sooner we can effect this desirable end, the greater probability is there of a favourable issue. And the longer he is detained from it, the greater is his hazard of fatal selfdeception ; or of an equally fatal relinquishment of the interests of his soul.

But the dangers to which the inquirer is exposed, may often be commensurate with his difficulties. And among these, not the least may be found in the well-meant, but injudicious advice of pious friends. A work, then, which will furnish Scriptural directions for different states of mind, consequent on the natural disposition, or temporal circumstances, of the awakened sinner, is certainly a desideratum.

Or, if there be no hazard of a fictitious peace, trom such a source, it may be the lot of the inquirer to be out of the reach of those to whom

INTRODUCTION. xi\".

he might impart his anxieties, and from whose experimental knowledge, relief might be obtained. And in sucli a dilemma it is easy to forsee that all solicitude may be abandoned in hopelessness ; recourse may be had to error ; or postponement, to a more favourable issue, may ensue.

In the private musings, too, of one in such a state, there may be imminent danger. Not only from his false expectations, but from the excuses which he secretly gives to his conscience. Present disappointment induces him to look somewhere else. And thousands in a land of Gospel light have given up all effort under secret pleas, as dishonorable to God as they are destructive to themselves. To enumerate these pleas, and to exhibit their criminality, might be an important engagement for one who acts as counsellor; but i' belongs to a field by far too large to be occupied in every instance of application for advice; while the particular parts in which the inquirer is privately wandering, may not be discerned. A volume, then, which would answer this end

XX. INTRODUCTION.

might assist the adviser, while it rendered the folly and inconsistency of the awakened sinner distinctly visible to his own sight.

If it be asked, whether I give the following pages to the public, with a full confidence in their adaptation to remove ail these difficulties, and to obviate all these dangers, I answer — No. Well informed readers, and perhaps some who are not so, wili observe defects which have not escaped my own eye ; and possibly many which have not occurred to me in a hasty review. But although my expectations of complete success in this effort, are not sanguine, thev are sufficient to warrant the trust that it has not entirely failed.

I am persuaded that there are few inquirers who will not find something to meet at least part of their difficulties ; and if the details which are given are considered too numerous and too particular by others, they will be the last to complain of them. Or if the nature of this work seemed to require some little repetition, it will be a small objection to one whose mind is eagerly

INTRODUCTION. xxi.

intent on learning all that relates to his spiritual condition; and who must see that the same perplexity or care, sometimes arises from different causes.

Part of the subjects which are discussed in this volume, are not thoroughly canvassed. Nor is it necessary that they should be. Designed as the work was for a certain class only, it could hardly be expected that ail in which the Christian is interested should be examined. And yet I would humbly hope that even the child of God may find something in the pages before him of interest to his own soul.

As there are many who once belonged to the former of these classes, and who are now numbered with neither — who have returned to the world after hours of anxiety for their salvation ; to such the recalled feelings of former days, and the reviewed excuses of a melancholy apostacy, may not be without some practical benefit.

It may be that the examples given will be considered too numerous. But 1 have thought that

XXii. INTRODUCTION.

they might be an advantageous medium through which some ideas would more distinctly appear. There is not one of them fictitious ; and, excepting where marked by express quotation to the contrary, they have fallen under my personal observation. And it is of small importance that the language put into the mouths of such examples, was not exactly their own. This could not be recollected. But a faithful adherence to the substance and spirit of titterings by them, has been inviolably preserved.

I have availed myself of any advantage which I could obtain, as far as I knew, from the works of other authors. And where it has appeared necessary to do so, I have named them. But they have been few. I have attempted to draw for materials rather on the Word of God, and on life as I have seen it, than on the writings of others.

One more remark may appear necessary. — The following Letters are exactly what they purport to be — written to a friend with a design to

INTRODUCTION. XXu'l.

assist him in his inquiries for salvation. If it be thought that they may be of service to some under similar circumstances, I shall be gratified in the concurrence of the hopes of others with my own. If not, there is some consolation, under the failure, in the thought that they were written with a sincere desire to aid the cause of religion. They are sent into the world with few pretensions; but accompanied, — as they were in the act of writing them, — with prayer in their behalf, to the Great Head of the Church.

THE AUTHOR.

BETTERS

TO AN

Letter I

Feelings of privacy commonly accompanying serious impressions — The critical state of an awakened Sinner — - An instance of abandoned convictions — Advice.

How shall we account for that secrecy of feeling which you have found it so difficult to infringe, and which is so common to the experience of awakened sinners ? That delicacy which guards the threshold of religion, and restricts the conversation of intimate friends to its exterior and general matters ? Shall we attribute it to a greater degree of refinement, or to a nicer sense of decorum ? But it is as prevalent among the ruder, as among the more polished classes of society. Shall we ascribe it to

26 tETT£R I.

an unwillingness to obtrude our griefs upon the sympathy of friends? This would be an apology in which fact would not sustain us ; for he to whom we unbosom our sorrow, is supposed to take a deep and unaffected interest in our spiritual welfare. And, moreover, this privacy is discoverable in the very man, who, instead of comprehending the sentiment of a Christian poet, that

u with the soul who ever felt the sting

" Of sorrow, sorrow is a sacred thing,"

would, at other times, drag you rudely through all the minutiae of his private woes. Nor is a want of confidence the cause of this restraint — for every other feeling may be imparted with freedom. Nor can it be wholly, if at all, owing to the confessed etiquette of irreligious society, which proscribes the subject of evangelical truth, much as a law of Athens prohibited the name of Death : Nor to that disgust which arises from a familiar and ill-timed use of scriptural terms : Nor to any thing else which could furnish an excuse, while it implies a compliment to our re* finement, our taste, or understanding.

These questions and answers, if they serve no other purpose, may at least lead you to the conclusion that you are not alone : numberless other

LETTER I 27

voices utter the same complaint ; and the subject, in its different shapes, has given rise to a thousand discussions ; and has led to a variety of artificial rules of Christian conduct. Professors of religion who sincerely desire to promote the weal of their friends, have frequently proposed such, queries as the following : — How shall I express my concern for one who is prepared at all times to interrupt me, by saying — " this is a private matter between God and myself;" and who feels that he has reason for offence in a rude invasion of his tranquillity ? How shall I introduce the subject of religion in a circle where it may be received with symptoms of impatience, or with that listless silence which hints its dismission ? And after all that can be said, there is an art in the successful introduction of a religious topic, which is less easily attained than zeal — a happy tact, which even the profane often admire, but which requires qualities that long experience and fervent piety may not be able to confer.

But this delicacy of feeling — we will give it its current title, although it belongs to that class of things which have wrong names, and which are embraced in the forbidden practice of calling evil good and good evil — this delicacy of feeling, which, while it forbids the obtrusion of religious views, lest they create offence, and shuts the lips of the awakened sinner, is not a rare ingredient in the characters of many who entertain a trust that they have been the subjects of saving grace. There are those who have sustained a long and tedious struggle in their hearts — who, possessing a faint hope that they have passed from death unto life, relinquish the ordinary pleasures of the world, and engage in all the duties which are fulfilled by a lukewarm professor of religion— except the duty of profession itself — and who, while they lead a cheerless life, seem not to consider that what they deem an apology for neglect, is the very sin which keeps them suspended between heaven and earth, unfit for the enjoyment of either.

And even after a public profession of faith has been made, evils are multiplied from the same cause : Not only when the Christian and the Worldling, in their ordinary interviews, consider the topic of religion forbidden ground to both, but in the discharge of many of those obligations which both reason and revelation enjoin. A valued friend once told me, that one of the most painful trials he had ever known, was in foundletter r. 29

ing the domestic altar. On other matters he could speak freely ; and private devotion occupied a due proportion of his time. But the conflict in his bosom was long and severe before he could persuade himself to become " the minister to his family." And can it be doubted that thousands of the rising generation retire unblessed from the restraint of parental prayer ? Or can it be doubted that this single neglect has checked the influence of many a parental example, which might have led the offspring to serious thought, if not to salvation ?

There is another modification of this delicacy, which attaches suspicion to it in all its forms ; social intimacy is often seriously injurious to that Christian fellowship on which the prosperity, if not the life, of personal piety depends. This may seem a singular position, and it would be so but for the very matter now before us. The truth is one of every day's observation, that husbands and wives often converse more freely on the experimental points of piety, with those who are comparatively strangers, than with each other. The bond which nature has formed between relatives, and which time has rivetted, appears too frequently loosened, when wc find that incongruous ^reluctance to converse together on matters of piety ; and when we have seen even children more ready to open their minds on this subject, to friends less nearly allied, than to the parent who has watched over them with prayerful solicitude. How is all this ? Is there something defective in Christianity itself? or something that changes the nature of our mutual relations ? Not at alL There may be different causes which produce different degrees of influence towards these effects, but still the mover of all this mischief is that most secret of agents — pride. There is no need of defining, no need of explaining the operation of this principle ; and it is wholly useless to quarrel with terms. Let him who speaks of this delicacy, and continues to foster it, examine the first feelings to which it gives rise : let him compare these feelings together, and note well their selfishness; and see if it be possible to escape our conclusion. Yes, pride has its retired habits as well as modesty, its seemly aspect, and its very diffidence of manner. And it is hence, that among the children of God, the consciousness that their mutual infirmities are known to each other, and the corresponding fear that they might generate a dis-

LETTER I 3]

trust of their sincerity, very often stand in the way of a fulfilment of that prophecy which the latter days shall complete — " then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another."

You have sometimes seen the mind which nature had rendered ingenuous and frank, drooping under cherished woes — bending beneath a weight it strove to conceal — mingling bitterness with domestic peace, and discontent with outward prosperity — until the hand that was about to set the spirit free from its tabernacle, laid bare to the sight the wounds that festered within ; and the nearing terrors of a death-hour broke the spell of restraint — and for the first time, the sufferer could ask, " what shall I do to be saved ?"

Or where the mind dared not brood over its disquietudes, and was equally unwilling to divulge them, how often have religious impressions which seemed nigh to some good hope, left place to a spurious peace, which continued unbroken through life !

"But there are moments," — you say, ; — " when you are not only anxious to hear all that can be said on this subject, but almost willing to inquire of those around yp*i " A more intense feeling of danger would certainly produce this effect. Even pride gives 'way in a season of peril. A greater passion usurps the seat of a lesser, when the two cannot reign together. And you have, perhaps, witnessed in another, that hardly-repressed anxiety of manner, which solicited an inquiry into its cause — that distant hinting at a subject there was not quite boldness enough to introduce ; and you saw, plainly, the cause of all this, through the miserable efforts to conceal h, But because that hint was not taken, and that exposed anxiety w 7 as not reached by a single question, — and the theme of religion was still kept back — the half awakened inquirer suppressed a murmur, at the disappointment, and, in the petulance of a mortified child, gave up the whole matter, with the self consoling thought — " It is parti}- the fault of others, if 1 perish." Here is pride acted out. And puerile as it may appear, it is a case of no uncommon occurrence. I am persuaded that if the inquirer will take pains to examine the ground he is treading, he will find a scriptural admonition meeting him at every step, and fitting the very disposition of mind which he then entertains. And it were well if, in the outset, he pondered the meaning of the Saviour's admonition — an admonition which strikes at a latent, but dan-

LETTER I. '33

gerous principle of the heart — " whosoever therefore shall be ashamed of me, and of my words, of him also shall the Son of man be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his Father, with the holy angels"

It imports nothing to the purpose to say, that we would be willing to endure any public dishonour for the sake of Jesus Christ. There is a kind of heroism in this, which has its attractions. And it is more than possible that the very man who would give his body to be burned, rather than abjure Christianity, may be kept back far from salvation, by the petty consideration of shame : While it is equally certain, that thousands who now retire from the blessings of the Gospel, — dreading the first disclosure of their feelings, — would be willing to enter, if they could, into a confidential contract, with the Redeemer.

How important it is, my dear friend, to begin aright in any undertaking ! And nowhere is it as much so as in the great concerns of the soul. An error here will follow us on ; and may effectually preclude all discovery of the truth. There is an ingenuousness and candour, for which the present state of your mind is well prepared, and the exercise of which will always furnish some relief. I have often thought there was something touching in your remark on an interview with W. — •' his appearance at that moment, was like that of the angel to Hagar, as she sat in the wilderness mourning over her dying hope." And I do admit that at such a season as this, we have our personal preferences of those to whom we would present the burden of our minds. Where there is good sense and piety in the object of our choice, the interview may be blessed. And I see no necessary reason, as others profess to do, why such a choice should produce an undue leaning on human means : For we entertain, with little apprehension^ our preferences in the ministrations of the Word : And we are certainly bound to adopt those measures which most directly reach our wants ; as well as to seek those instructions, which most immediately meet the circumstances of our particular cases.

And yet, after all, it is rather a principle than a practice, to which I would direct your attention. Whether we express our difficulties to another, or adopt only those more direct means which are prescribed in the Word of God, is of secondary importance in many cases, judicious as the former may be, in most instances. But it is of pri-

LETTER I. 35

mary importance to know whether we are attempting to commence this great concern, with a subdued temper, or with fostered feelings of pride.

It is a question which has more than once occurred to me, when I have reflected on your inquiries, whether 1 shall congratulate my friend on his present state of mind, or how far I should sympathize with him in this new species of sorrow ? But how could I do either, alone? This is a most critical era in his life. It may look forward to the enjoyment of Heaven ; or it may produce an issue as positive on the side of despair. Let us pause together for one moment, and examine the ground on which you are standing.

The prejudices which you once carefully guarded, and which seemed as a retreat when conscience approached too near — how they have dwindled away ! The objections to evangelical truth, which possessed shape and magnitude, with the very appearance of solidity, have vanished as the light grew brighter around you. Difficulties which you thought deserving of serious investigation ; and petty objections, which furnished an excuse for indifference to the whole matter or salvation — have receded without awaiting your scrutiny. Whence all this ? It was no mere deduction of reason. You have arrived at a conclusion more irresistible, and by a process more rapid, than that of argument. This is none other than the work of the Spirit, whatever its end may be. You are surrounded by a new and powerful exhibition of divine truth. You look far enough, perhaps, into the doctrines of the gospei, to see that they contain an energy, and a fullness of meaning, of which you thought little before. You discover more nearly, the worth of the Christian's hope. You feel, in some measure, as if awakening from a dream, to a sense of want and danger. How will you account for all this ? " It is God that worketh in you?'' — You can look back with some surprise on the past ; while you compare it with your present sense of conviction. The thoughtlessness of your associates darkens your prospect by the contrast it furnishes : and you are half disposed to say,