Selected Sermons of Jonathan Edwards-INTRODUCTION 4

 

This, in general, is the scheme which Edwards stands for, he most conspicuously of all men of modern times. His speculative genius gave to this scheme a metaphysical background, his logical acumen elaboration and defense. He modified it in some respects, e.g., in his doctrine of the will. What is more important, he gave a prominence to the inward state of man—the dispositions and affections of his mind and heart—which appreciably affected the relative values of the scheme, and which has, in fact, changed the entire complexion of the religious thought of New England. But as to the general scheme itself, the philosophy of religion, the philosophy of life it expresses, there is nothing in that which is essentially original with Edwards. In standing up for these doctrines he champions the great orthodox tradition. 

But however little original may be the content of his thought, there is nothing that is not in the highest degree original in his manner of thinking. The significant thing about Edwards is the way he enters into the tradition, infuses it with his personality and makes it live. The vitality of his thought gives to its product the value of a unique creation. Two qualities in him especially contribute to this result, large constructive imagination, and a marvelously acute power of abstract reasoning. With the vision of the seer he looks steadily upon his world, which is the world of all time and space and existence, and sees it as a whole; God and souls are in it the great realities, and the transactions between them the great business in which all its movement is concerned; and this movement has in it nothing haphazard, it is eternally determined with reference to a supreme and glorious end, the manifestation of the excellency of God, the highest excellency of being. 

All the dark and tragic aspects of the vision, which for him is intensely real, take their place along with the other aspects, in a system, a system wherein every part derives meaning and worth from its relation to the whole. People have wondered how Edwards, the gentlest of men, could contemplate, as he said he did, with sweetness and delight, the awful doctrine of the divine sovereignty interpreted, as he interpreted it, as implying the everlasting misery of a large part of the human race. The reason is no revolting indifference, callous and inhuman, to suffering; the reason is rather the personal detachment, the disinterested interest, freedom from the “pathetic fallacy” of the great poet, the great constructive thinker. It is this large quality in Edwards’s imagination which is one source of his power. Another is the thoroughness and ability with which he intellectually elaborates the details of his scheme. He wrote, indeed, no system of divinity; yet he is the very opposite of a fragmentary thinker, and few minds have been less episodic than was his. 

intellectual constructions are large and solid. Of the doctrines with which he deals, he leaves nothing undeveloped; with infinite patience he pushes his inquiries into every minute detail and remote consequence, putting his adversaries to confusion by the unremitting attack, the overwhelming massiveness of the argument. Rarely indeed can one escape his conclusions who accepts his premises. Moreover, by the thoroughness, acuteness and sincerity of his reasoning he powerfully stimulates the intellectual faculties. Even in his most terrific sermons he never appeals to mere hope and fear, nor to mere authority; in them, as in his theological treatises, he is bent on demonstrating, within the limits prescribed by the underlying assumptions, the reasonableness of his doctrine, its agreement with the facts of life and the constitution of things, as well as with the inspired teachings of the Word.

Now these qualities appear, as in his other writings, so also, and perhaps most conspicuously, in his sermons. Edwards’s chief public work and his chief reputation in his lifetime was as a preacher; the fame of his theological treatises is largely, indeed, posthumous. He was a great preacher. In the case of many of the older divines, it is difficult for us now to understand how they could ever have been considered great preachers: to us their sermons seem dry and insipid. But it is not so with Edwards. Even in print, after more than a hundred and fifty years, and notwithstanding the gulf which separates our age from his, his sermons are still deeply interesting. They are interesting because, among other things, they reveal a great and interesting personality. They are instinct with the energy of his intellect, they are vital with the vital touch of his genius. 

He preached his theology; some of his sermons—for instance, the sermon, or rather combination of sermons, on Justification by Faith—seem to be less sermons than highly elaborate theological disquisitions, adapted to the use of professional students. And there is doubtless no sermon of his which does not reflect, to some extent, his theological system. Edwards was certainly impressed with The Importance and Advantage of a Thorough Knowledge of Divine Truth—the theme and title of one of his ablest discourses. He held that God had revealed Himself not only to the heart, but to the mind of man, and that an intelligent apprehension of the revelation was indispensable, in some measure, alike to saving faith and to the development of Christian character. But it would be a mistake to think of Edwards as preaching the dry bones of his theology. He was far, indeed, from supposing, as some now seem to suppose, that a Christian society can be the more perfectly organized in proportion as all definiteness of theological, that is, distinctively religious, conceptions is eliminated. He had too profound a respect for the intellect to exclude it from matters of the deepest speculative as well as practical moment, and he had too lofty an idea of religion to identify it either with vague, transcendental emotion or with merely personal, social, or political morality. 

His sermons, however, are by no means all of one type. On the contrary, they are of a great variety of types. They are “doctrinal,” “practical,” “experimental,” and—taking into account the unpublished manuscripts—there is an unusually large number of “occasional” sermons. And there are a good many varieties within the types. But even when the sermons are most “doctrinal,” the practical interest of a living conviction of the truth is never absent. The abstract antithesis of thought and life, of theory and practice, as though thinking were not itself a doing or as though an attitude toward truth were not itself practical or capable of determining other practical attitudes, is an error from which Edwards is wholesomely free.

Selected Sermons of Jonathan Edwards-INTRODUCTION 3

 

Meanwhile, an event had occurred in Edwards’s family destined to have important consequences—the marriage of his daughter Esther to the Rev. Aaron Burr, President of Nassau Hall, in Princeton. In September 1757, Mr. Burr died; two days later, the Corporation appointed Edwards as his successor. Edwards was for various reasons reluctant to accept the appointment; he mistrusted his fitness, and he especially feared that the duties of the office would seriously interrupt the literary work in which he was now engrossed. Nevertheless, on the recommendation of a Council called at his desire to advise in the matter, he accepted the call. He left Stockbridge in January, and toward the end of the month reached Princeton. But the only work he did as President of the College was to preach for five or six Sundays and to give out themes in divinity to the Senior Class, with whom he afterward discussed their papers on them. The smallpox was epidemic in the town when he arrived, and as a precautionary measure, he had himself inoculated. The disease, mild at first, developed badly, and on March 22, 1758, he died. From his death-bed, he sent this tender and characteristic message to his wife, who was still in Stockbridge: “Give my kindest love to my dear wife, and tell her that the uncommon union, which has so long subsisted between us, has been of such a nature, as, I trust, is spiritual, and therefore will continue forever.” His last words, also characteristic, were, “Trust in God, and ye need not fear.”

A tall, spare man, with a high, broad forehead, clear piercing eyes, prominent nose, thin, set lips, and a rather weak chin, his whole appearance suggested the perspicacity of intellect and the integrity, refinement, and benevolence of character of one possessing little physical energy, little suited to practical affairs, but intensely alive in the spirit, intensely absorbed in the contemplation of things invisible and eternal. The two qualities, indeed, for which he is most distinguished are spirituality and intellectuality. Spiritual mindedness was the very core and essence of his being. Religion was his element. God was to him absolute Reality; His will and His thoughts alone constituted the ultimate truth and meaning of things. Nor was this with Edwards mere philosophical speculation; it was the high region in which he drew vital breath, the solid ground on which he walked. He walked with God. He has been called the “Saint of New England.” Like other saints, he too has on occasion his ecstasies.

To this high spirituality, with its rich emotional coloring, was united power and subtlety of intellect such as is possessed by only the very greatest masters of the mind. The spiritual world in which Edwards moved was for him no mere shadowy realm of pious sentiment or vague aspiration, but a world whose main outlines, at least, were sharply defined for thought. He conceived it, namely, in accordance with the scheme of things systematized by Calvin, but originally wrought out with the compelling force of transcendent genius by Augustine. The theological thought of Augustine is concerned—to put the matter as simply as possible—with the elaboration of four fundamental ideas: the absolute sovereignty of God; the absolute dependence of man; the supernatural revelation of a divinely originated plan of salvation administered by the Church; and a philosophy of history according to which the whole created universe and the entire temporal course of events are ordered and governed from all eternity with reference to the establishment and triumph of a Kingdom of saints in the Church, the holy “City of God.” Augustine’s conception of the Church is modified, but not in principle rejected, by the Protestant theologians; the other features of the scheme remain substantially unchanged. The idea of God’s absolute sovereignty leads naturally, in connection with the motives supplied by certain teachings of Scripture, Roman jurisprudence, Greek philosophy, and the experiences of a profound religious consciousness, to the doctrines of God’s eternal foreknowledge, His “arbitrary,” i.e., unconditional decrees,—the eternal world-plan,—predestination, election, the historic work of redemption, everlasting punishment for the unrepentant wicked, everlasting felicity for the elect saints. Over against the sovereignty of God stands man’s absolute dependence, historically conditioned, as regards his present spiritual capacities, by the Fall, with original sin, total depravity, and the utter inability of a man to recover by himself his lost heritage as its consequence. Hence the great, the essential tragedy of human life—man naturally corrupt, in slavery to sin, at enmity with God, utterly incompetent to change a condition in which, by a sort of natural necessity, he is the subject of God’s vindictive justice, utterly dependent for salvation on the free, unmerited grace of God, who has mercy on whom He will have mercy, while whom He will He hardened, revealing alike in mercy and in punishment the majesty of His divine and sovereign attributes.

Selected Sermons of Jonathan Edwards-INTRODUCTION 2

 

The estrangement between Edwards and his people began in 1744, in connection with a case of discipline in which a large number of the youth belonging to the leading families of the town were brought under suspicion of reading and circulating immoral books. During the excitement of the revival, the people willingly accepted his high demands. But now, in the reaction, flesh, and blood rebelled. Edwards, however, was not the man to accommodate the claims of religion, as he conceived those claims, to the weaknesses of human nature. It would not be strange if, under the circumstances, the people looked on their minister as something of a spiritual dictator, exercising a kind of spiritual tyranny. Still, this feeling, so far as it then existed, was not likely to have led to an open rupture, had it not been that four years later, on the occasion of an application—the first in those years—for membership in the church, Edwards sought to impose a new test of qualification. He required, namely, that the candidate for full communion should give evidence of being converted, and as such converted person, should make a public profession of godliness. This restriction ran counter to the principles and usage established by Mr. Stoddard, accepted by most of the neighboring churches, and hitherto followed by Edwards himself, according to which, not only might persons be admitted to church membership on the terms of the “Halfway Covenant,” but they might come to the Lord’s Supper, if they desired to do so, even without the assurance of conversion, the hope is that the rite might itself prove a converting ordinance. Edwards was now openly charged with seeking to lord it over the brethren, and the indignation was intense. He, on his part, was convinced of the correctness of his position and was prepared to maintain it at all costs. The unhappy controversy lasted for two years: Edwards was dignified, courteous, disposed to be conciliatory, yet insisting on the recognition of his rights, and showing throughout his great moral and intellectual superiority; the people prejudiced, obstinate, refusing even to consider his views or to allow him to set them forth in the pulpit, bent only on getting rid of him. Finally, on June 22, 1750, the Council, convened to advise on the matter, recommended, by a vote of 10 to 9, the minority protesting, that the pastoral relations should be dissolved. The concurrent sentiment of the church was expressed by the overwhelming vote of about 200 to 20 of the male members. The next Sunday but one Edwards preached his Farewell Sermon. 

Edwards was now forty-six years of age, unfitted, as he says, for any other business but study, and with a “numerous and family” to face the world with. The long controversy and the circumstances attending the dismissal had had a depressing effect on his spirits, and the outlook seemed to him gloomy in the extreme. But his trust was in God, and his friends did not fail. From Scotland came the offer of assistance in procuring him a charge there; his Northampton adherents desired him to remain and form a separate church in the town. Early in December, he received a call from the little church in Stockbridge, on the frontier, and about the same time an invitation from the Commissioners in Boston of the “Society in London for Propagating the Gospel in New England and the parts adjacent” to become their missionary to the Indians, who then formed a large part of the Stockbridge settlement. After acquainting himself by a residence of several months in Stockbridge with the conditions of the work, and after receiving satisfactory assurances, in a personal interview with the Governor, with regard to the conduct of the Indian mission, he accepted both of these proposals. He had scarcely done so when he received a call, with the promise of generous support, from a church in Virginia.

 The opposition which had driven him from Northampton followed him to Stockbridge. For several years a persistent effort was made to obstruct his work, particularly his work among the Indians, and even to secure his removal. But he successfully met this opposition, won the confidence of the Indians, and greatly endeared himself to the “English.” Here, too, in the wilderness, he found time and opportunity for the writing of those great treatises on the Freedom of the Will, on the End for which God created the World, on the Nature of True Virtue, and on the Christian Doctrine of Original Sin, which is the principal foundation of his theological reputation.

 

Selected Sermons of Jonathan Edwards-INTRODUCTION 1/6

 

 

Jonathan Edwards was born October 5, 1703, in what is now South Windsor, Conn., a part of the parish then known as “Windsor Farms.” His father, the Rev. Timothy Edwards, the minister of the parish, a Harvard graduate, was reputed as a man of superior ability and polished manners, a lover of learning as well as of religion; in addition to his pastoral duties, he fitted young men for college, and his liberal views of education appear in the fact that he made his daughters pursue the same studies these youths did. His mother, a daughter of the Rev. Solomon Stoddard, the minister of Northampton, is said to have resembled her distinguished father in the strength of character and to have surpassed her husband in the native vigor of her mind. As regards remoter ancestry and their intellectual and moral qualities, Edwards seems also to have been well born; an exception, however, must be made of the eccentric and possibly insane grandmother on his father’s side, whose outrageous conduct led to her divorce. 

Brought up the only son in a family of ten daughters, apart from all distracting influences, in an atmosphere of religion and serious study in the home, amid natural surroundings of meadows, woods, and low-lying distant hills singularly conducive to a life of contemplation, the boy early developed that absorbing interest in the things of the spirit and that astonishing acuteness of intellect which are the most prominent characteristics of his genius. While a mere child he spent much of his time in religious exercises and in conversation on religious matters with other boys, with some of whom he joined to build a booth in a retired spot in a swamp for secret prayer; he had several other such places for prayer in the woods to which he was wont to retire. His mind also dwelt much on the doctrines he was taught, especially on the doctrine of God’s sovereignty in election, against which he at that time violently rebelled. When only ten years of age he wrote a short, quaint, somewhat humorous little tract on the immortality of the soul; at about twelve he composed a remarkably accurate and ingenious paper on the habits of the “flying spider.” 

He entered the Collegiate School of Connecticut at Saybrook—afterward Yale College—at thirteen, and in 1720, shortly before his seventeenth birthday, graduated at New Haven with the valedictory. In his Sophomore year, he made the acquaintance of Locke’s Essay on the Human Understanding—a work that left a permanent impression on his thinking. He read it, he says, with a far higher pleasure “than the greediest miser finds when gathering up handfuls of silver and gold from some newly-discovered treasure.” Under its influence, he began a series of Notes on the Mind, with a view to a comprehensive treatise on mental philosophy. He also began, possibly somewhat later, a series of Notes on Natural Science, with reference to similar work on natural philosophy. It is in these early writings that we find the outlines of an idealistic theory that resembles, but was probably not at all derived from, that of Berkeley, and which seems to have remained a determining factor in his speculations to the last. 

After graduating he continued to reside for two years in New Haven, studying for the ministry. From August 1722, till the following April, he supplied the pulpit of a small Presbyterian congregation in New York but declined the invitation to remain as their minister. After returning to his father’s home in Windsor, he received at least two other calls, one of which he seems to have accepted. In September 1723, he went to New Haven to receive his Master’s degree, was appointed a tutor at the college, entered upon the active duties of that office in June 1724, and continued in the same till September 1726, when he resigned his tutorship to become colleague-pastor with his grandfather Stoddard in the church at Northampton.

The spiritual history of Edwards in these years of growth from youth to early manhood is recorded by his own hand in a narrative of personal experiences written at a later date for his own use, in fragments of a diary, and in a series of resolutions which he drew up for the conduct of his own life. These documents, which were first published by his biographer and descendant, Sereno E. Dwight, in 1829, throw a flood of light on Edwards’s character and temperament and serve to explain much in his life which would otherwise be obscure. He tells us in his narrative how the childish delight in the exercises of religion before referred to gradually declined; how at length “he turned like a dog to his vomit and went on in the ways of sin;” then how, after much conflict of soul, he experienced toward the end of his college course a genuine conversion, issuing in a new life and, in the course of time, a deep and delightful sense of God’s sovereignty, the excellency of Christ, and the beauty of holiness. There is possibly some exaggeration in Edwards’s description of this lapse and this recovery, but it was at least a very genuine experience to him, and it doubtless contributed to the emphasis which he afterward put on conversion in his preaching. His own state after this decisive change was at times one of mystic rapture—“a calm, sweet abstraction of the soul from all the concerns of this world; and sometimes a kind of vision, or fixed ideas and imaginations, of being alone in the mountains or some solitary wilderness, far from all mankind, sweetly conversing with Christ and wrapped and swallowed up in God.” His diary is the record of a soul straining in its flight. He watches the fluctuations of his moods with almost morbid intensity, and yet in a way by no means merely conventional, and with a singular absence of sentimentality, so evidently sincere and, in a sense, objective are his observations. Of his seventy Resolutions, all written before he was twenty, the following may be taken as a specimen: it is the language of a mind as truly original as religious and is eminently characteristic. “On the supposition that there never was to be but one individual in the world, at any one time, who was properly a complete Christian, in all respects of a right stamp, having Christianity always shining in its true luster, and appearing excellent and lovely, from whatever part and under whatever character viewed, Resolved: To act just as I would do, if I strove with all my might to be that one, who should live in my time.” And he did so act; these resolutions were not empty; they really determined his life. 

Edwards was ordained at Northampton, on February 15, 1727, being then in his twenty-fourth year. Five months later, on July 28, he married the beautiful Sarah Pierrepoint, then seventeen, the daughter of the Rev. James Pierrepoint, of New Haven, one of the founders, and a prominent trustee, of Yale College, and on her mother’s side, the great-granddaughter of Thomas Hooker, “the father of the Connecticut churches.” Edwards’s description of her, written four years before their marriage, is famous. The union proved a singularly happy one, the intelligence, cheerfulness, piety, and practical sagacity of Mrs. Edwards combining to make her at once a congenial companion and a most useful helpmeet to her zealously devout, highly intellectual, but often low-spirited husband, immersed in his writings and his books. They had twelve children, all born in Northampton. Mr. Stoddard died on February 11, 1729, leaving the young minister in full pastoral charge. It was a responsible undertaking for so young a man to guide the affairs of a church reputed the largest and wealthiest in the colony outside of Boston, one too on which the venerable and venerated Stoddard had stamped the impress of his strong personality during a ministry of nearly sixty years. Edwards, as he later confesses, made mistakes. Nevertheless, he succeeded in winning and holding the confidence, admiration, and affection of the people during the greater part of the twenty-three years of his ministry in Northampton. He carried the church through two great periods of revival (1734-35, 1740-42), and added over five hundred and fifty names to its membership. This, however, represents but a small part of his influence in these years. Both by his preaching in Northampton and elsewhere and by his published writings, notably his printed sermons and his works dealing with the revivals, which must be included in his treatise on the Religious Affections, he powerfully affected the currents of religious thought and life throughout New England and the neighboring colonies and, to some extent also, in England and Scotland. His mission had been to recall the Puritan churches, which for some seventy years had languished in a period of decline, to the old high Puritan standards both of creed and of conduct, and to infuse into them a new spirit of vital piety. In this he was largely successful; and still today, in spite of wide departures from his theological system, he remains an effectual spiritual force in the churches inheriting the Puritan tradition.

THE OVERCOMING LIFE--By D. L. MOODY--PART III. RESULTS OF TRUE REPENTANCE-SEVEN “I WILLS” OF CHRIST.

 

6. The “I Will” of Resurrection.

Then there is another I will in John, sixth chapter, verse forty; it occurs four times in the chapter: “I will raise him up at the last day.”

I rejoice to think that I have a Savior who has power over death. My blessed Master holds the keys to him, and I got more comfort out of that promise “I will raise him up at the last day,” than anything else in the Bible. How it cheered me! How it lighted up my path! And as I went into the room and looked upon the lovely face of that brother, how that passage ran through my soul: “Thy brother shall rise again.” I said, “Thank God for that promise.” It was worth more than the world to me.

When we laid him in the grave, it seemed as if I could hear the voice of Jesus Christ saying, “Thy brother shall rise again.” The blessed promise of resurrection! Blessed “I will!” “I will raise him up at the last day.”

7. The “I Will” of Glory.

Now the next I will is in John, seventeenth chapter, twenty-fourth verse: “Father, I will that they also, whom Thou hast given Me, be with Me where I am.”

This was in His last prayer in the guest chamber, on the last night before He was crucified and died that terrible death on Calvary. Many a believer’s countenances begin to light up at the thought that he shall see the King in His beauty by and by. Yes, there is a glorious day before us in the future. Some think that on the first day we are converted we have got everything. To be sure, we get salvation for the past and peace for the present; but then there is the glory for the future in store. That’s what kept Paul rejoicing. He said, “These light afflictions, these few stripes, these few brickbats and stones that they throw at me—why, the glory that is beyond excels them so much that I count them as nothing, nothing at all, so that I may win Christ.” 

And so, when things go against us, let us cheer up; let us remember that the night will soon pass away, and the morning dawn upon us. Death never comes there. It is banished from that heavenly land. Sickness, and pain, and sorrow, come not there to mar that grand and glorious home where we shall be by and by with the Master. God’s family will be all together there. Glorious future, my friends! Yes, a glorious day! and it may be a great deal nearer than many of us think. During these few days we are here let us stand steadfast and firm, and by and by we shall be in the unbroken circle in the yon world of light and have the King in our midst.

THE OVERCOMING LIFE--By D. L. MOODY--PART III. RESULTS OF TRUE REPENTANCE-SEVEN “I WILLS” OF CHRIST.

 

5. The “I Will” of Comfort.

The next “I will” is in John, fourteenth chapter, verse eighteen: “I will not leave you comfortless.”

To me, it is a sweet thought that Christ has not left us alone in this dark wilderness here below. Although He has gone up on high and taken His seat by the Father’s throne, He has not left us comfortless. The better translation is, “I will not leave you, orphans.” He did not leave Joseph when they cast him into prison. “God was with him.” When Daniel was cast into the den of lions, they had to put the Almighty in with him. They were so bound together that they could not be separated, and so God went down into the den of lions with Daniel.

If we have got Christ with us, we can do all things. Do not let us think how weak we are. Let us lift up our eyes to Him, and think of Him as our Elder Brother, who has all power given to Him in heaven and on earth. He says: “Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.” Some of our children and friends leave us, and it is a very sad hour. But thank God, the believer and Christ shall never be separated! He is with us here, and we shall be with Him in person by and by and shall see Him in His beauty. But not only is He with us, but He has sent us the Holy Ghost. Let us honor the Holy Ghost by acknowledging that He is here in our midst. He has the power to give sight to the blind, liberty to the captive, and to open the ears of the deaf so that they may hear the glorious words of the Gospel.

THE OVERCOMING LIFE--By D. L. MOODY--PART III. RESULTS OF TRUE REPENTANCE-SEVEN “I WILLS” OF CHRIST.

 

4. The “I Will” of Service.

The next I will be the “I will” of service.

There are a good many Christians who have been quickened and aroused to say, “I want to do some service for Christ.”

Well, Christ says, “Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.”

There is no Christian who cannot help to bring someone to the Savior. Christ says, “And I, if I am lifted up, will draw all men unto Me”; and our business is just to lift up Christ.

Our Lord said, “Follow Me, Peter, and I will make you a fisher of men”; and Peter simply obeyed Him, and there, on that day of Pentecost, we see the result. Peter had a good haul on the day of Pentecost. I doubt if he ever caught so many fish in one day as he did men on that day. It would have broken every net they had on board if they had had to drag up three thousand fish.

I read some time ago of a man who took passage in a stagecoach. There were first, second and third-class passengers. But when he looked into the coach, he saw all the passengers sitting together without distinction. He could not understand it till by and by they came to a hill, and the coach stopped, and the driver called out, “First-class passengers keep their seats, second-class passengers get out and walk, third-class passengers get behind and push.” Now in the Church, we have no room for first-class passengers—people who think that salvation means a comfortable ride all the way to heaven. We have no room for second-class passengers—people who are carried most of the time, and who, when they must work out their own salvation, go trudging on giving never thought to help their fellows along.

 All church members ought to be third-class passengers—ready to dismount and push altogether and push with a will. That was John Wesley’s definition of a church— “All at it, and always at it.” Every Christian ought to be a worker. He need not be a preacher, he need not be an evangelist, to be useful. He may be useful in business. See what power an employer has if he likes! How he could labor with his employees, and in his business relations! Often a man can be far more useful in a business sphere than he could in another.

There is one reason, and a great reason, why so many do not succeed. I have been asked by a great many good men, “Why is it we don’t have any results? We work hard, pray hard, and preach hard, and yet success does not come.” I will tell you. It is because they spend all their time mending their nets. No wonder they never catch anything.

The great matter is to hold inquiry meetings, and thus pull the net in, and see if you have caught anything. If you are always mending and setting the net, you won’t catch many fish. Whoever heard of a man going out to fish, and setting his net, and then letting it stop there, and never pulling it in? Everybody would laugh at the man’s folly.

A minister in England came to me one day, and said, “I wish you would tell me why we ministers don’t succeed better than we do.”

I brought before him this idea of pulling in the net, and I said, “You ought to pull in your nets. There are many ministers in Manchester who can preach much better than I can, but I pull in the net.”

Many people have objections to inquiry meetings, but I urged upon him the importance of them, and the minister said,

“I never did pull in my net, but I will try next Sunday.”

He did so, and eight people, anxious inquirers, went into his study. The next Sunday he came down to see me and said he had never had such a Sunday in his life. He had met with a marvelous blessing. The next time he drew the net there were forty, and when he came to see me later, he said to me joyfully,

“Moody, I have had eight hundred conversions this last year! It is a great mistake I did not begin earlier to pull in the net.”

So, my friends if you want to catch men, just pull in the net. If you only catch one, it will be something. It may be a little child, but I have known a little child to convert a whole family. You don’t know what is in that little dull-headed boy in the inquiry room; he may become Martin Luther, a reformer that shall make the world tremble—you cannot tell. God uses the weak things of this world to confound the mighty. God’s promise is as good as a banknote— “I promise to pay So-and-So,” and here is one of Christ’s promissory notes— “If you follow Me, I will make you fishers of men.” Will you not lay hold of the promise, and trust it, and follow Him now?

If a man preaches the Gospel and preaches it faithfully, he ought to expect results then and there. I believe it is the privilege of God’s children to reap the fruit of their labor three hundred and sixty-five days in the year.

“Well, but,” say some, “is there not a sowing time as well as harvest?”

Yes, it is true, there is but then, you can sow with one hand, and reap with the other. What would you think of a farmer who went on sowing all year round, and never thought of reaping? I repeat it, we want to sow with one hand, and reap with the other; and if we look for the fruit of our labors, we shall see it. “I, if I am

lifted up, will draw all men unto Me.” We must lift Christ up, and then seek men out, and bring them to Him.

You must use the right kind of bait. A good many don’t do this, and then they wonder if they are not successful. You see them getting up all kinds of entertainments with which to try and catch men. They go the wrong way to work. This perishing world wants Christ, and Him crucified. There’s a void in every man’s bosom that wants to fill up, and if we only approach him with the right kind of bait, we shall catch him. This poor world needs a Savior; and if we are going to be successful in catching men, we must preach Christ crucified—not His life only but His death. And if we are only faithful in doing this, we shall succeed. And why? Because there is His promise: “If you follow Me, I will make you fishers of men.” That promise holds just as good to you and me as it did to His disciples and is as true now as it was in their time.

Think of Paul up yonder. People are going up every day and every hour, men and women who have been brought to Christ through his writings. He set streams in motion that have flowed on for more than a thousand years. I can imagine men going up there, and saying, “Paul, I thank you for writing that letter to the Ephesians; I found Christ in that.” “Paul, I thank you for writing that epistle to the Corinthians.” “Paul, I found Christ in that epistle to the Philippians.” “I thank you, Paul, for that epistle to the Galatians; I found Christ in that.” And so, I suppose, they are going up still, thanking Paul all the while for what he had done. Ah, when Paul was put in prison, he did not fold his hands and sat down in idleness! No, he began to write; and his epistles have come down through the long ages of time and brought thousands on thousands to a knowledge of Christ crucified. Yes, Christ said to Paul, “I will make you a fisher of men if you follow Me,” and he has been fishing for souls ever since. The devil thought he had done a very wise thing when he got Paul into prison, but he was very much mistaken; he overdid it for once. I have no doubt Paul has thanked God ever since for that Philippian goal, and his stripes and imprisonment there. I am sure the world has made more by it than we shall ever know till we get to heaven.

THE OVERCOMING LIFE--By D. L. MOODY--PART III. RESULTS OF TRUE REPENTANCE-SEVEN “I WILLS” OF CHRIST.

 

3. The “I Will” of Confession.

Now turn to Matthew, tenth chapter, thirty-second verse: “Whosoever, therefore, shall confess Me before men, he will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven.” There’s the “I will” of confession.

Now, that’s the next thing that takes place after a man is saved. When we have been washed in the blood of the Lamb, the next thing is to get our mouths opened. We have to confess Christ here in this dark world and tell His love to others. We are not to be ashamed of the Son of God.

A man thinks it a great honor when he has achieved a victory that causes his name to be mentioned in the English Parliament, or in the presence of the Queen and her court. How excited we used to be during the war, when some general did something extraordinary, and someone got up in Congress to confess his exploits; how the papers used to talk about it! In China, we read, that the highest ambition of the successful soldier is to have his name written in the palace or temple of Confucius. But just think of having your name mentioned in the kingdom of heaven by the Prince of Glory, by the Son of God, because you confess Him here on earth! You confess Him here; He will confess you yonder.

If you wish to be brought into the clear light of liberty, you must take your stand on Christ’s side. I have known many Christians go groping about in darkness, and never get into the clear light of the kingdom, because they were ashamed to confess the Son of God. We are living in a day when men want a religion without the cross. They want the crown, but not the cross. But if we are to be disciples of Jesus Christ, we have to take up our crosses daily—not once a year, or on the Sabbath, but daily. And if we take up our crosses and follow Him, we shall be blessed in the very act.

I remember a man in New York who used to come and pray with me. He had his cross. He was afraid to confess Christ. It seemed that down at the bottom of his trunk he had a Bible. He wanted to get it out and read it to the companion with whom he lived, but he was ashamed to do it. For a whole week that was his cross; and after he had carried the burden that long, and after a terrible struggle, he made up his mind. He said, “I will take my Bible out tonight and read it.” He took it out, and soon he heard the footsteps of his mate coming upstairs.

His first impulse was to put it away again, but then he thought he would not—he would face his companion with it. His mate came in, and seeing him at his Bible, said,

“John, are you interested in these things?” “Yes,” he replied.

“How long has this been, then?” asked his companion.

“Exactly a week,” he answered, “for a whole week I have tried to get out my Bible to read to you, but I have never done so till now.”

“Well,” said his friend, “it is a strange thing. I was converted on some night, and I too was ashamed to take my Bible out.”

You are ashamed to take your Bible out and say, “I have lived a godless life for all these years, but I will commence now to live a life of righteousness.” You are ashamed to open your Bible and read that blessed Psalm, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.” You are ashamed to be seen on your knees. No man can be a disciple of Jesus Christ without bearing His cross. A great many people want to know how it is Jesus Christ has so few disciples, whilst Mahomet has so many. The reason is that Mahomet gives no cross to bear. There are so few men who will come out to take their stand.

I was struck during the American war by the fact that there were so many men who could go to the cannon’s mouth without trembling, but who had no courage to take up their Bibles to read them at night. They were ashamed of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, which is the power of God unto salvation. “Whosoever, therefore, shall confess me before men, he will I confess also before My Father which is in heaven. But whosoever shall deny Me before men, he will I also deny before My Father which is in heaven.”

THE OVERCOMING LIFE--By D. L. MOODY--PART III. RESULTS OF TRUE REPENTANCE-SEVEN “I WILLS” OF CHRIST.

 

2. The “I Will” of Cleansing.

The next “I will” is found in Luke, fifth chapter. We read of a leper who came to Christ, and said: “Lord if Thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.” The Lord touched him, saying, “I will: be thou clean”; and immediately leprosy left him.

Now if any man or woman full of the leprosy of sin read this, if you will but go to the Master and tell all your case to Him, He will speak to you as He did to that poor leper and speak. “I will: be thou clean,” and the leprosy of your sins will flee away from you. It is the Lord, and the Lord alone, who can forgive sins. If you say to Him, “Lord, I am full of sin; Thou canst make me clean”; “Lord, I have a terrible temper; Thou canst make me clean”; “Lord, I have a deceitful heart. 

Cleanse me, O Lord; give me a new heart. O Lord, give me the power to overcome the flesh and the snares of the devil!”; “Lord, I am full of unclean habits”; if you come to Him with a sincere spirit, you will hear the voice, “I will; be thou clean.” It will be done. Do you think that the God who created the world out of nothing, who by a breath put life into the world—do you think that if He says, “Thou shalt be clean,” you will not?

Now, you can make a wonderful exchange today. You can have health in the place of sickness; you can get rid of everything that is vile and hateful in the sight of God. The Son of God comes down and says, “I will take away your leprosy, and give you health in its stead. I will take away that terrible disease that is ruining your body and soul and give you my righteousness in its stead. I will clothe you with the garments of salvation.”

Is it not wonderful? That’s what He means when He says—I will. Oh, lay hold of this “I will!”

THE OVERCOMING LIFE--By D. L. MOODY--PART III. RESULTS OF TRUE REPENTANCE-SEVEN “I WILLS” OF CHRIST.

A man when he says, “I will,” may not mean much. We very often say “I will,” when we don’t mean to fulfill what we say; but when we come to the “I will” of Christ, He means to fulfill it. Everything He has promised to do, He is able and willing to accomplish, and He is going to do it. I cannot find any passage in Scripture in which He says “I will” do this, or “I will” do that, but it will be done.

1. The “I Will” of Salvation.

The first “I will” to which I want to direct your attention, is to be found in John’s gospel, sixth chapter and thirty-seventh verse: “Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out.”

I imagine someone will say, “Well, if I were what I ought to be, I would come; but when my mind goes over the past record of my life, it is too dark. I am not fit to come.”

You must bear in mind that Jesus Christ came to save not good people, not the upright and just, but sinners like you and me, who have gone astray, and sinned and come short of the glory of God. Listen to this “I will”—it goes right into the heart— “Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out.” Indeed, that is broad enough—is it not? I don’t care who the man or woman is; I don’t care what their trials, troubles, their sorrows, or their sins are, if they only come straight to the Master, He will not cast them out. Come then, poor sinner; come just as you are, and take Him at His word.

He is so anxious to save sinners, that He will take everyone who comes. He will take those who are so full of sin that they are despised by all who know them, who have been rejected by their fathers and mothers, who have been cast off by the wives of their bosoms. He will take those who have sunk so low that upon them no eye of pity is cast. His occupation is to hear and save. That is what He left heaven and came into the world for; that is what He left the throne of God for—to save sinners. “The Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.” He did not come to condemn the world but that the world through Him might be saved.

A wild and prodigal young man, who was running a headlong career to ruin came into one of our meetings in Chicago. The Spirit of God got hold of him. While conversing with him, and endeavoring to bring him to Christ, I quoted this verse to him.

I asked him: “Do you believe Christ said that?”

“I suppose He did.”

“Suppose He did! do you believe it?”

“I hope so.”

“Hope so! Do you believe it? You do your work, and the Lord will do His. Just come as you are, and throw yourself upon His bosom, and He will not cast you out.”

This man thought it was too simple and easy.

At last, the light seemed to break in upon him, and he seemed to find comfort in it. It was past midnight before he got down on his knees, but down he went and was converted. I said:

“Now, don’t think you are going to get out of the devil’s territory without trouble. The devil will come to you tomorrow morning and say it was all feeling; that you only imagined you were accepted by God. When he does, don’t fight him with your own opinions, but fight him with John 6:37: ‘Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.’ Let that be the ‘sword of the Spirit.’”

I don’t believe that any man ever starts to go to Christ, but the devil strives somehow or other to meet him and trip him up. And even after he has come to Christ, the devil tries to assail him with doubts and make him believe there is something wrong with it.

The struggle came sooner than I thought in this man’s case. When he was on his way home the devil assailed him. He used this text, but the devil put this thought into his mind: “How do you know Christ ever said that after all? Perhaps the translators made a mistake.”

Into darkness, he went again. He was in trouble till about two in the morning. At last, he came to this conclusion. Said he:

“I will believe it anyway; and when I get to heaven, if it isn’t true, I will just tell the Lord I didn’t make the mistake—the translators made it.”

The kings and princes of this world, when they issue invitations, call round them the rich, the mighty and powerful, the honorable and the wise; but the Lord, when He was on earth; called round Him the vilest of the vile. That was the principal fault the people found with Him. Those self-righteous Pharisees were not going to associate with harlots and publicans. The principal charge against Him was: “This man received sinners and ate with them.” Who would have such a man around him as John Bunyan in his time? He, a Bedford tinker, couldn’t get inside one of the princely castles. I was very much amused when I was over on the other side. They had erected a monument to John Bunyan, and it was unveiled by lords and dukes and great men. While he was on earth, they would not have allowed him inside the walls of their castles. Yet he was made one of the mightiest instruments in the spread of the Gospel. No book that has ever been written comes so near the Bible as John Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress.” And he was a poor Bedford tinker. So, it is with God. He picks up some poor, lost tramp, and makes him an instrument to turn hundreds and thousands to Christ.

George Whitefield, standing in his tabernacle in London, and with a multitude gathered about him, cried out: “The Lord Jesus will save the devil’s castaways!”

Two poor abandoned wretches standing outside in the street heard him, as his silvery voice rang out in the air. Looking into each other’s faces, they said: “That must mean you and me.” They wept and rejoiced. They drew near and looked in at the door, at the face of the earnest messenger, the tears streaming from his eyes as he plead with the people to give their hearts to God. One of them wrote him a little note and sent it to him.

Later that day, as he sat at the table of Lady Huntington, who was his special friend, someone present said:

“Mr. Whitefield, did you not go a little too far today when you said that the Lord would save the devil’s castaways?”

Taking the note from his pocket he gave it to the lady, and said: “Will you read that note aloud?”

She read: “Mr. Whitefield: Two poor lost women stood outside your tabernacle today, and heard you say that the Lord would save the devil’s castaways. We seized upon that as our last hope, and we write you this to tell you that we rejoice now in believing in Him, and from this good hour we shall endeavor to serve Him, who has done so much for us.”