I had been a Christian for about ten years when the second conversion of which this is the story. occurred, for I can as clearly speak of two conversions in my history, as I doubt not the Apostles Andrew and James could speak of two in theirs – one when they believed in Christ as Messiah, and the other when He became their sole object on earth, detaching them, moreover, by His express call, even from their daily occupation. Peter, indeed, could speak of a third conversion, expressly mentioned by the Lord as such: “When thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren” (Luke 22:3232But I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not: and when thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren. (Luke 22:32)).
But while these instances show that such cases are by no means rare, it is well to remember that when God does save a man, expressly as a pattern to them “which should hereafter believe in Him to life everlasting,” he is so completely turned to God from everything at the outset, that we do not read of anything that could he regarded as a second conversion in the history of the Apostle Paul. It should, however, be clearly understood what is meant by conversion. The Greek word is generally translated “to turn,” or “turn about.” In Matthew 9:2222But Jesus turned him about, and when he saw her, he said, Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole. And the woman was made whole from that hour. (Matthew 9:22), we read: “But Jesus turned Him about, and when He saw her.” In Matthew 12:4444Then he saith, I will return into my house from whence I came out; and when he is come, he findeth it empty, swept, and garnished. (Matthew 12:44), we find: “I will return into my house.” In both cases the word is the same as that translated “conversion.”
Any definite turning to God is a conversion to God. People may turn to other things; we often hear of a conversion to politics, or to some school of medicine; with these, however, we need not concern ourselves now, as the only conversion I have to speak of is “to God.”
When first we believe, we are converted, as we read of the Thessalonians, “they turned to God from idols, to serve the living and true God.” But this may only be a turning from some one thing, as in their case, “from idols,” which might still leave room for a turning from the world, or a turning from self.
It must be plainly understood that conversion in no way always implies salvation, which can only be once, and is forever, whereas, a conversion (as we have seen) may occur several times in a Christian’s life.
This, indeed, I clearly apprehended in my own case, having been saved as I have said, ten years before the conversion of which I now write, and during the whole of that time being perfectly clear as to eternal life.
I had always enjoyed sound gospel teaching, and was also rightly taught what a Christian should be, although I had never grasped the power. I used to attend the meetings regularly on the Lord’s day and I helped also a little in working among the young.
I also went to one meeting in the week, feeling it was not right to do less. Under the plea, however, of necessary bodily exercise, I mixed largely with the world in sports and amusements. In traveling I desired to see as much of the world as possible – in short, although I recognized the claims of God over part of my time, I lived the rest to please myself.
Not that I ran to any excess; on the contrary, in every respect my life was very regular and steady. It is of principles I now speak, and my principle was to please myself as far as possible, without violating what my conscience told me God required.
Of course, I was not very happy. In this I am sure you, my reader, will bear me out if you are trying to trim with the world and draw the line, so as to include as much of it as possible.
The very fact of marking out a boundary between myself and the world, short of that formed by the cross and grave of Christ shows that we are not of one mind with God in the matter and are therefore out of communion with Him on this subject, and no soul can be happy where it is out of communion.
In this way, therefore, I went on drawing my own lines of demarcation, which included those pleasures that I most loved, while rigorously excluding those I did not so much care for, or had a bad conscience about, which lines were necessarily always shifting and uncertain, not being established by God’s Word; and as I had a good many Christian companions, each with lines of their own drawing, and which often did not coincide with mine, the question continually arose, “Is this right?” or “Is that wrong?”
But the Lord had a better course for me than always steering as near as possible to the rocks and shoals which I loved, although I knew the danger I ran if I struck upon them.
It was in the autumn I left home for a month’s pleasure tour. The program was a delightful one to me, and just suited my tastes, being mainly by water. One of my companions was a child of God, the other not.
At first everything went well, our plans prospered, the weather was fine, the scenery magnificent.
But after a few days, things suddenly took a turn. We suffered shipwreck, and after being nearly drowned, were compelled to give up the water and travel by land.
All this spoke to my conscience, which was by no means completely at its ease, for none of my boundary lines between what was wrong had really satisfied it; but of one thing I was glad; by going on foot instead of by water, I found we should be able to include in our route a town I had long wished to visit, in order to see a Christian who lived there, and of whose consistent and happy life I had very often heard. Fortunately, the town was in the midst of beautiful scenery, so I was enabled to change our route without disclosing what was in my heart.
After some unpleasant adventures, we reached the town about seven o’clock one evening. On leaving our hotel after dinner, I went to the meeting room and found that a lecture was being given by the very man I had come to see.
I cannot remember a word of that address. I had attended meetings and lectures from my infancy. God was now going to work in my soul by other means.
I was not unknown by name to the lecturer, and was, with my friends, invited to supper.
Somehow, I listened that night with wonderful interest to what I heard of the Lord’s work, in which he was so happily engaged; and as I looked at his face, I felt that he, at least, had found a source of pleasure in serving his Master to which I was still a stranger. What struck me, too, was not so much the work he spoke of as the manner in which it seemed to flow from a real love to Christ, so that even I felt it must be a very happy life to lead.
At a late hour we left, promising to breakfast with our new friend in the morning. We had to tell him something of our plans, although I must say I felt somewhat ashamed of laying my tour of pleasure by the side of his work for the Lord. I thought a good deal that night about the different paths he and I were pursuing, both children of God.
In the morning, after breakfast, he brought out a map and showed us our way to a neighboring lake of great beauty, which we had arranged to reach by boat, and he bid us good-bye; but with a sad look at me, that went to my heart, for I saw he pitied me.
I let my companions row while I steered. All at once, when about half way to the lake, the truth flashed upon me, and I saw I was the slave of self instead of being Christ’s free man, and His servant. I saw I was being dragged about, for its own pleasure, by the wretched self that God had condemned, and I felt it was not I. I had different tastes. I longed to serve Christ, and as the sense of His love to me, and His forbearance all the long years I had known Him, filled my heart, I felt I was in an intolerable bondage I would endure no longer.
I felt I had a right to be free. Christ had died to set me free, and yet here I was working like a galley slave to please myself. What made me see it so clearly was that I had just left a free man. He, at any rate, was not toiling at the old oar. He was under a new master, and was free from the tyranny of the old.
A slave will endure a great deal of bondage if he is not brought face to face with freedom; but if he is in the company of a free man, his soul must indeed be dead if he does not long to lose his fetters. My mind at any rate was made up. I would not endure it another day.
The time past of my life was indeed more than sufficient to have lived in the flesh, to have wrought my own will, and Christ having suffered for me in the flesh, I armed myself with the same mind, no longer to live in the flesh, after the desire of men, but according to the will of God. It was from myself I now turned (that I had served so faithfully), to Christ; from doing my own will to a desire to do His.
I sat in the boat with all this passing in my mind, and said nothing; but I prayed to the Lord to make this conversion a very real one, and to enable me from that day to do His will, and not my own.
At last I began to think how to get out of my tour, as I longed to spend some days where I was to see more of my friend, who, not by his words, but simply by the force of living for Him who died for him, had been the means of this, my second conversion, and the Lord opened the way in a remarkable manner. My unconverted companion began talking about the tour, and how tired he was of walking. I proposed to stay a few days where we were, while he paid a visit to some friends he had near, to which he assented.
By this time we reached the lake, but I must confess its beauties are almost forgotten in the remembrance of the beauty I saw in the path of Christ.
On our return, my companion went on his way, while we who were Christians went up to see my friend again. He was surprised at the sudden change in our plans, but on hearing we were staying in the town, insisted on our making his house our home.
This we did, and what I saw in his life fully confirmed me in my discovery, that to please one’s self is slavery, and that the only liberty and happiness for a Christian is to do the will of God.
This, then, is the simple story of my second conversion from the principle of serving self to serving Christ; for although in many respects I did the same things, by God’s grace it was in measure through the influence of a new principle, and it is this that is of all importance in God’s sight. What we do is of course a serious question, but why we do it is a far deeper one, both to God and ourselves.
I have hesitated for many years to record these experiences, feeling how feebly they presented the great truth of deliverance from self, and knowing how still more feebly I have carried it out. But seeing in Scripture how often a personal testimony is given, I look to the Lord, that He may use this narrative to the full deliverance of any of my readers who may still be seeking to serve two masters.