LET me tell you the story of a man who, acquainted somewhat with the gospel, was always ready to speak of religion, yet knew not its power—who, though he could tell you that Jesus came into the world to save sinners, and that he was a sinner, yet thought to get to heaven by his own works, and that the Saviour would make up for all his shortcomings.
The death of a neighbor brought him along with others to attend the funeral, and amongst them was a companion who, finding out the false ground on which his friend was resting, told him plainly that he was putting his confidence in self instead of Christ, and that so continuing he would perish.
This, as one may well suppose, was at the time anything but palatable to our friend. Nevertheless, he began to think that perhaps, after all, he might be deceiving himself, and that his self-confidence was untrustworthy. In his distress he went to hear the address of a neighboring minister, who took for his text, “Lo! this is the man who made not God his strength” (Psa. 52:77Lo, this is the man that made not God his strength; but trusted in the abundance of his riches, and strengthened himself in his wickedness. (Psalm 52:7)). Conscience at once reminded the man of Nathan’s words to David, “Thou art the man.”
The preacher pointed out in the course of his sermon how in many ways confidence might be misplaced; some trusting in their performance of religious duties—reading, praying, attending the various services; others in the good opinion men had of them—of their uprightness in their dealings with their fellow men, etc., etc.; but that all this was like trusting to a rope of sand. There was nothing short of the Saviour and His finished work that could avail for the soul’s deepest need. Here was indeed a strong tower where one might flee and be safe.
He concluded his discourse by warning the self-righteous of their state, and of the danger awaiting them; how dreadful it would be to find that, instead of entering heaven, they would hear those awful words, “Depart, ye cursed.”
The discourse ended and the listener sat condemned. Retiring, he smote upon his breast, and, like the publican or tax gatherer of Luke 18, he cried, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” He went home convicted, confessing that he was indeed “the man who made not God his strength.” Truly, “the entrance of thy words giveth light: it giveth understanding to the simple.”
Now was his self-righteousness being pulled down. His eyes were opened to see the delusion under which he had long lain. “No good in creature can be found.” The work of the Spirit of God in his soul, thus begun, was carried on, until, abandoning self, he found rest and peace, where only they can be found—in the Saviour who died. The Saviour died for sinners. He came to seek and to save—to save the lost—to save us from our sins. And by His atoning death on the tree, by faith in His blood, we are entitled to know the blotting out of our sins.
Thus was our friend brought into peace and holy liberty—no longer to have confidence or trust in self, but only in Another and in what Jesus has wrought to the glory of God and for our present and eternal blessing who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ.