FOR these eighteen hundred years, “The faith in Christ" has commanded the attention of the learned and the learned, the great and small alike.
True, it has received different treatment at their hands; the wicked heart of man may have seen fit to look at it only to neglect, refuse, and despise it; or, on the other hand, by grace to believe, and thus to become the happy possessor of its manifold blessings. The results are wide apart, yet such are the claims, the promises, the revelations of this faith in Christ, that, at least, curiosity is awakened, and people are forced to listen to the voice it carries.
Thus Felix—a Roman governor of Judea—sent for Paul, for the purpose of hearing, from his lips, concerning the faith in Christ.
Now Paul had been sent to Felix as a prisoner, and had been accused before him as a pestilent fellow, a mover of sedition among all the Jews throughout the world, and a ringleader of the sect of the Nazarenes. He had declared that the things laid to his charge could not be proved; but he confessed that, after the way that they called heresy, so he worshipped God, exercising himself to have always a conscience void of offense toward God and men.
Now a religion that leads to the worship of God, and a conscience void of offense, cannot be, after all, very heretical. No doubt it may be stigmatized as heresy by those whose consciences are not tender, as, most clearly, in the case of Paul's accusers, who were, like himself in earlier days, kicking against the pricks. Such a moral triumph on the part of the accused, led Felix to desire further information, and for this cause, as we have seen, he sent for him.
Perhaps he expected to hear some clever theory, to be initiated into some strange mystery, or to listen to some recondite system of philosophy.
He little thought that the faith in Christ would prove itself to be anything so plain, so homely, so personal; and withal, that it would place himself— the unjust, intemperate sinner—face to face with "judgment to come," or that he should tremble at the truth he could not deny.
"Felix trembled!" And why? Because Paul reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come. The governor was anything but righteous or sober. He was partial in his administration, and voluptuous in his life. These home thrusts must have cut deeply; supplemented, as they were, by the stern fact of judgment to come.
This Christianity, or the faith in Christ, is no mere pleasant tale, no fable to charm the fancy. It may, and does, most fully lift the veil, and unfold the truth. It speaks of the love of God,—of His Eternal Son becoming a man,—of His death, resurrection, and exaltation to the right hand of the Majesty on high; of the blessed consequences of this, viz., the forgiveness of sins,—peace with God, eternal life; as the present portion of the believer, —of the presence of the Holy Spirit on earth, to indwell the believer,—baptizing all such into one body,—convincing the world, too, of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment. But while all this is true, it also deals with the ways of men. All sin is condemned; Christianity is intolerant of evil. It preaches the forgiveness of sins, but it denounces the practice of them. It tells of grace to the sinner, but it wages war with his sins. Sin must be punished; hence the sinless One was judged on the cross, for all who believe in Him; hence, too, on the other hand, judgment to come, and "the lake of fire," for those who continue in sin and unbelief.
Christianity is essentially holy; and so are its doctrines. This is the first fact that the sinner must face. He must allow himself to be measured and humbled by the holiness of God; that is, he must repent. There is no salvation where there is no repentance. To preach otherwise is to "daub with untempered mortar." Yet, the moment the soul has passed judgment on itself (and, reader, have you?), then salvation follows. The publican went down to his house justified, whenever he smote on his breast, and said, “God be merciful to me a sinner,"—then, but not till then.
Alas, how different to this was the trembling of Felix. He quailed in view of judgment, yet only said, "Go thy way for this time." Solemn prayer indeed! but how often repeated.
The jailor of Philippi trembled but, thank God, he said, "What must I do to be saved?" It was not "Go thy way" with him. He felt his condition —he owned his guilt—the answer came, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.”
And shall not your case, dear reader, be like his? Judgment must come! Oh! take warning in time, and escape the sinner's condemnation, by having recourse, at once, to the sinner's Saviour.
J. W. S.
IT is most blessed to see,' that in the Cross the moral nature of God, outraged by man's sin, has been perfectly glorified. Christ would rather die than let sin subsist unatoned for. He has wrought atonement, and sin has been perfectly judged, according to God's estimate of its sinfulness before Him. God, having been thus glorified by the Son of Man, has shown His estimate of that Man and of His work by putting Him into glory at His own right hand. Faith perceives this, and immediately reckons—and rightly too— that every question of sin must have been divinely settled to the entire satisfaction of God. The result for the soul is solid peace, in the sense of acceptance in Christ in divine righteousness.
W. T. P. W